


A Flare in the Dark

by StreetSolo



Series: Signs and Smoke Signals [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alien Culture, Anger, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Comedy, Drama, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fingerfucking, Force Sensitivity, Force-Sensitive Reader, Humor, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Interpreting, Kissing, Languages and Linguistics, Linguistics, Making Out, Manipulation, Mind Games, Moral Ambiguity, POV Second Person, Play Fighting, Plot, Politics, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sign Language, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Sparring, The First Order, The Force, Trust Issues, Wordcount: Over 100.000, interpreter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 05:19:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 156,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5815693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StreetSolo/pseuds/StreetSolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you are asked to be an interpreter for an alien species aboard the Starkiller Base for a six month internship, you agree, even without being told the full specifications of your assignment. Assured that you are being told as little as possible for your own safety, you begin to wonder if such a thing is even possible, especially when you learn that you've captured the special attention of a certain man aboard the ship, who stalks about in black and hides behind a mask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> January 2018 Update 
> 
> Two weeks after TFA came out, I wrote a fanfiction called Signs and Smoke Signals that ended up having some really freaky similarities between the story and The Last Jedi in terms of Rey's origins, Phasma's staff, and the whole Snoke plot. My friend wrote an article about the similarities that I posted on my friend's website, intending only to share it with people who read the story and also noticed the similarities. Unfortunately, that went viral, with people claiming that I intend to sue Disney and Rian Johnson for "plagiarizing my work" so I can make millions.
> 
> Umm...yeah. That's not true. It's just fanfic, guys. If you still want to read the story, please feel free, but as you can see from the description, TLJ this is not. Have a good one!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I choose fantasy to vent, to process complex political, sexual and social politics at the safe distance of fiction."  
> -Natalie Dormer

                “Isn’t this just the best?”

                Your friend Sadie peers at you from the doorway. You are sitting on the floor, surrounded on all sides by stacks of boxes higher than your head. “Have you finished unpacking already?”

                “Mostly,” she says with a light shrug. “I didn’t pack much, just some clothes and books and things. You look like you packed your entire room.”

                You let out a snort of good humor. “Yeah, well, I didn’t know what I’d need."

                “We’re only going to be here for six months,” she reminds you.

                “But we’re on Starkiller Base. How am I supposed to know what to bring to a military installation?”  

                She furrows her brow. “It is kind of creepy, don’t you think? Like, I get why we’re here but I just don’t get-“

                “-why we’re here?” She nods in silent agreement.

                You have just moved with your good friend, Sadie, and four other interpreters onto the Starkiller Base for a six-month internship. Both you and Sadie, and you presumed the others as well, had graduated with a degree in linguistics. Fortunately, your little planet hadn’t been ravaged by the wars and skirmishes of the galaxy, letting you study your academic pursuits in peace, and you had taken the time to be fascinated by other planets, other peoples, other cultures, and other languages. You wished you could learn them all, every language ever spoken or signed or communicated in the entire galaxy, but you knew it to be an impossible task. So you took it upon yourself to study only what fascinated you, and to excel in those areas. For instance, you had a special affinity for non-verbal languages, especially languages that relied on hand gestures and facial expressions to communicate. You were never quite sure why this was, but it had always just seemed to come naturally to you.

                One of your professors, B, was the one who had initially offered you the internship position. B was from a planet that devalued individuality, even down to their names, which is probably what made him such an excellent interpreter. Interpreters, you knew, were very hard to find in a galaxy that was ravaged by constant battles, as people were constantly forced to choose sides in order to avoid destruction. But interpreters had to force themselves to remain neutral, no matter what the task at hand was, even if they were interpreting the destruction of their planet and all that they held dear to them. You had never been in an example quite that extreme, but it was that kind of blind insistence on neutrality that was valued in this trade. It was this kind of detached devotion to the craft that instilled B with excellent interpreting skills, something that he sought to pass on to a younger generation. For you, it wasn’t really a struggle of moral conscience. Things were just easier when you didn’t have to worry about right and wrong. You let others wallow in their tribulations and their struggles; all you had to do was pass on the message. The only thinking required was to analyze the content for its message, dissect it down to its most basic form, and then recode it in another language for the recipient and do it over and over again between the two parties. It was a daunting intellectual task, and could by physically demanding as well, there was no doubt about that, but your morality was never, and could never, be called into question. It was implicit that whatever coded message left your mouth or your hands wasn’t yours, and so you couldn’t own to it. As B liked to say, even if you are interpreting a conversation between two conspirators to kill your brother, you must interpret the message unequivocally and honestly.

                That was the role of an interpreter, nothing more, nothing less.

                The other pesky problem with interpreting was the confidentiality; you, of course, would be privy to all sorts of matters of confidential information and the secret affairs of people’s lives, but you had a sworn duty to never retain the information uttered in your presence. This was impossible, of course, there was always a bit of secret gossip or a useful tidbit of knowledge that you tucked away in your mental stores, but it got easier as time went on to simply blur the strings of messages that you encountered together until it ran through your head like one mangled line of matted text, one syllable indistinguishable from another. It wasn’t like you really cared about this either; secret affairs of other people were none of your business, and you had no intention of making it so. Incidental information, such as learning secret inside tricks to a hobby or trade were always a delight, but again, hardly ever retained in the mass jumble of words that constantly swam through your mind on a daily basis.

                It was probably why B had recommended you the internship position in the first place. You had never really seemed to care for the matters and going-ons of others; in fact, it was just the opposite. You shied away from gossip and instead focused on your favorite part of the job: the language. You loved languages, pure and simple. Each letter, each syllable, or each hand gesture had its own little meaning, its own little secret. You could scratch the back of your head to show humility on one planet and show fear in another. The traditions and the culture and the lore behind each symbolic gesture and word were sometimes so specific and nuanced that they varied not just from planet to planet, but sometimes even on the same planet as well. But that was why you loved it. It was like a secret riddle ready to be decoded.

                On this specific assignment, B had informed you that you would be interpreting between an alien species who used a non-verbal mode of communication and the First Order. He had warned you that many considered the First Order to be evil. He had waited and assessed you then, and it had pleased him when it seemed to have made absolutely no difference to you. Evil was a matter of perception, you knew that by now. Everyone had their own goals and ambitions, and that was fine, more or less, but when you put them together and watched them divide by ideologies, you could cluster them up in neat little groups and label one the good guys and the other the bad guys. Of course, the labels could easily be switched depending on perception, which is why it didn’t interest you. You had never been the product of war, never had been truly involved. You had heard stories, but that’s all they were, stories, of places way back in history or on the other side of the galaxy. Soldiers in blue killed the soldiers in red, and soldiers in red killed the soldiers in blue. Blood was spilled on both sides, neither was totally innocent. The whole thing hardly affected the comings and goings of your daily life, and you weren’t about to let it stop you from doing this job.

                Or from collecting your paycheck, which was atypically large for an interpreter’s small salary. It was enough to get by on, a sustaining wage at least, but nothing to boast about. It was done more for the love of the job, or in your case, the love of the language, the love of being thrown into a new situation with new variables and ever-changing riddles.

                You suspected that it was the money that also prompted this whole arrangement in the first place, as the First Order had apparently struck a deal with the Tortutaru from the planetoid Totackan, not too far from the planet that held your academia. You were well-versed in their language, Tortuarune, mostly in part due to their culture. They were extremely social, yet nosey beings, completely the opposite of you in that regard. They wanted to know everyone’s business, know what secrets they had lurking in the corners of their minds. It is why, you suspected, that they had two brains: one to dwell upon their own thoughts, and one to focus on the minds of others. You knew that the Tortutaru used telepathy in addition to their non-verbal signals, and you remember reading somewhere that the second brain was actually used to keep a constant mental shield up at all times, to keep others from reading their thoughts. It was an interesting notion, but you were no neurologist. How their minds worked didn’t really concern you, so long as they weren’t reading _your_ mind, and you were well-assured that they wouldn’t.

                Even though you knew the two parties that you would be interpreting for, you didn’t really have any specifics of the assignment. That was not completely unusual; you were there to transmit information from one party to the other, nothing more, pre-study need not be applicable aside from the subtle nuances and culture chasms that separated the two parties. You knew you were here with your friend, Sadie, who you had convinced to come on this expedition with you when almost everyone else in your class had dropped out (although _you_ didn’t specifically care that you would be working directly with the First Order, a great many people opted not to be involved), your professor, B, his partner Cassius, whom you referred to only as C, and two other boys, Ladson and Shayne.

                You knew that due to the delicate nature of war, B and C would be interpreting morning debriefings, and whatever other top secret information they only trusted to professors with many more years of tenured experience. There would only be four Tortutaru in all, and so each of them would be assigned an interpreter for their own social use on the base, as well as for whatever additional duties they needed to perform. These additional duties, again, you were told, were no business of yours, and you did not ask for any more information than you needed to. You simply had to know the language and culture of each species well enough to interpret any information quickly, accurately, efficiently, and without prejudice or bias. You felt certain you could handle the task.

                “All right, gather ‘round,” B calls from out in the living room. You were not quite sure what to make of the living quarters before you arrived, but you actually found them quite accommodating once you were here. The apartment that you shared with your fellow interpreters was actually similar in shape to a five pointed star. Each person had their own private room and bathroom in one point of the star, with a door to both to the outside and to the inside, the center of the star, where it came together to form a recreational common room and kitchen to be shared amongst all five units. There was one room for each of you, and B and C shared a room together at the apex of the star.

                “Coming,” you call quickly. You jump to your feet too fast and nearly topple over a box of books, but Sadie catches it just in time. She puts it back down quickly and waggles her fingers out, palms down, imitating the water leading to and slipping off the edge of a waterfall. It’s the Tortutarune sign for excess, or overflowing, and you knew what she meant to say in this case. _Too. Much. Stuff._

B sighs your name as he watches you stumble and trip your way out of your room. “I told you that you were packing too much.” 

                “Well, I wanted to be prepared,” you huff as you slump into a seat and cross your arms over your chest.

                He shakes his head. “Anyway, you will have plenty of time to unpack later. I know I told you that the Tortutaru would be getting in tomorrow, but they are actually arriving today.” C leans forward to whisper something in his ear. “Or, they may have actually already arrived.” The four of us let out an appreciative giggle. The nature of your work was very fickle; people were always demanding that you adhered to strict schedules, although those schedules were never, ever followed. One party was either early, or, more typically, irredeemably late, and the interpreters were always, always the last to know.

                “In any case…” His eyes settle on you. “I need you to get ready soon. In addition to me and C, you and Ladson will also be the escorts to the introduction this afternoon.”

                “Escorts?” Sadie exclaims. “That sounds cool. Why don’t I get to go to that?”

                B sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. _That_ was why. It made sense that Ladson would go; out of the four of you underlings, he was the oldest and had the most experience.

                “Ladson is second to me and C in experience, and we felt that it would only be proper to…” He gestures towards you with his hand.

                “Bring a woman around to even out the numbers?” you ask, raising your eyebrows as you tilt your head to the side.

                “Precisely,” he replies. “Please do remember that the Tortutaru are very patriarchal in nature. They believe that the males should go out and work, while the females stay behind and attend to any offspring. However, they still consider women to be their equals, so we felt your presence this afternoon would be appropriate, especially considering you and Sadie will be working with them on an ongoing basis throughout this assignment.”

                “I suppose it would be appropriate,” you reply coolly. “Remember that they do consider women to be the artisans of language and conversation.” You roll your eyes over towards Sadie. “You know, because they assume we just sit around gabbing all day.”

                “Sexism at its finest,” Sadie agrees. You throw your right hand over your shoulder and she smacks your fingers lightly in a seamless high-five. Ladson smiles good-naturedly, his curly blonde locks tumbling over his forehead as he shakes his head. Shayne just sits in the background, looking bored by the whole affair. You had never seen him before, but you guessed that his stoic nature and his impassive face made him the perfect specimen for neutrality.

                “Yes, yes,” B continues. “And, of course, you clearly exhibit a firm grasp on their cultural and social cues.” He hesitates, and if he means to elaborate on this, before changing his mind. “Although I have been informed that they would like you to follow the traditional archaic communication model over the bi-bi approach we initially discussed.”

                You tilt your head to the side. “They?” Ladson asks, echoing your confusion. You’re glad that someone else had the good sense to ask that question. Sometimes people who worked with interpreters before insisted that they knew what they were doing and would throw your own language back in your faces, as if to assume that they knew your process and your methods. Simply put, the communication model meant that you interpreted things strictly word for word, with no cultural information. The bi-bi model, which was short for bilingual-bicultural, basically gave the interpreter room to adjust their behavior in order to incorporate the social cues and cultural nuances that the other parties may not have been aware of. In other words, “they” were asking you to be a socially awkward machine, spitting out words and signs like a translating robot. You could do it, and had been asked to do it on numerous occasions, but that didn’t mean that you liked it. For example, it was harder to say that it was raining cats and dogs, rather than just to express that it was raining heavily. There was always a chance the other party wouldn’t understand the idiom or expression, which could of course lead to disastrous results. You had seen it before, although you preferred not to call that horrid affair to mind just now.

                “The First Order,” B elaborates. “Of course, we will speak to the Tortutaru about it this afternoon and let them address our concerns. I can understand the traditional communication model for private meetings, but considering that you four were asked here in order to help address their social needs and the customs and practices they are not familiar with…” His voice trails off, as if he’s not sure how to finish his sentence.

                “We are sure they will be amendable to our concerns,” C says quickly, and B nods.

                “Yes, thank you,” he says quickly. “Now, we will be making introductions with the Tortutaru first, and then we shall follow their lead for the duration of the assignment. You are guests here, but please make no mistake: this is a military installment, and they are at a time of war. Tensions are high, so please do not go anywhere on this ship alone. Do not try to make any friends. Do not tell anyone your purpose here unless explicitly asked: people will see you around with your partner over the next few months. They will soon realize who you are and why your presence is required on board.”

                “To provide access to quick, equivalent communication,” C adds. “Nothing more. Please remember that not everyone thinks of interpreters as essential to the process, and some will think that you merely get in the way. Just do what you think is right, and we will regroup and assess your concerns nightly to make sure they are addressed in an expeditious manner.”

                “I have a question,” Shayne says suddenly, throwing one arm up in the air as if he was still a student in a classroom. “Can we ask what exactly are they doing here? As you just said, professor, this is a military installation. What possible good will come of bringing a bunch of telepathic lifeforms on board and getting them involved in the affairs of Storm Troopers? What is the First Order hoping to accomplish? I have a few theories myself, but I am interested to hear your take.”

                B purses his lips shut for a moment, studying him seriously. “I wish you had brought these theories to me before we had brought _you_ on board,” he says through gritted teeth. “These are exactly the kinds of questions the First Order does _not_ want you to be asking. You are here for one purpose and one purpose only. You will provide communication between whatever Tortutaru gets assigned to you and whoever they happen to be speaking to. That is your role here. Do that for six months, receive your pay, and then do us both a favor and never speak to me again. I cannot and will not be liable for any punishments that the First Order deems necessary to carry out against you if they believe you are acting against their interests. And that goes for any of you. Do I make myself clear?”

                You look down and nod your head quickly, pretending to study the floor beneath your feet with increasing interest. Shayne opens his mouth to say something, but then thinks better of it.

                “Do you know their names?” Ladson asks as a way to distill the tension. “Names of the Tortutaru? Names of the upper command here so we know how to properly address them?”

                B just rubs at his forehead and sighs as he shakes his head and turns away. “I’m sure that information will be made known to you in time,” C says quickly as B steps back inside of his room. “In the meantime, please, you two, get dressed. I think it would be best for all involved if we got down there to meet the Tortutaru as soon as possible so we can figure out how to proceed.”

                “Yes sir,” you say quickly as you get to your feet. You nod in Ladson’s direction and then disappear inside your room. Sadie quickly appears behind you.

                “Need any help finding your things?” she asks. You look around at the various boxes scattered about the room and sigh.

                “Yes, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! My name is Krasava and this is the first time I've written anything like this. It's my first time writing in the second person, the first time writing Star Wars fanfic, and it's the first time I'm putting a little more of me in my work. I'm a researcher and a linguist at heart; I absolutely love languages, especially sign languages. I have terrible hearing loss in my left ear and so I communicate primarily in American Sign Language and have worked as an interpreter for many years before delving into research. I was a bit nervous to post this story, but I hope that you all enjoy it! Cheers!!
> 
> PS: Yes, Kylo Ren will make his first appearance in chapter 2! I've written out a really long outline of the story so I have a general plan of where this story will go! Updates will come daily unless otherwise stated!
> 
> Also, feel free to check me out on [Tumblr](http://streetsolo.tumblr.com/)/[Twitter](https://twitter.com/streetsolo)/[Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/streetsolo/) (and now [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/Streetsolo-100707330320784/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel)!) @ streetsolo (I always post all my new Star Wars merch on Instagram.) Cheers!!


	2. Chapter 2

                You and Ladson walk step by step behind B and C. You walk through dark, dimly lit corridors both thick and narrow, passing Storm Troopers as you go. You’re not sure where you’re headed, exactly, but B seems to know the way, and he never breaks from his quick stride as he makes the twists and turns from corridor to corridor. Luckily, you are tall and your long legs have no trouble keeping pace with him.

                After walking for what seems like miles, B finally stops in front of a metal door that looks exactly the same as the billion other metal doors you had just passed, and you almost crash into his back as he stops short. You quickly snap your head to attention, chin up, eyes straight ahead, although you have to admit that your face is a bit flushed from all the brisk walking.

                As the metal door slides open, B and C are the first to enter, and Ladson gestures politely for you to walk in behind them. The room is oddly completely empty, except for the four humanoid beings standing in front of you. They are more or less human in shape, although their skin is an extremely dark green, the color of slick dentale leaves in the rain forest at night. You know that you are tall, but the shortest among them seems to be over two meters. Their heads are big, not quite bulging at the sides, but there does seem to be a significant increase in girth. Their eyes are wide, but you avoid looking into them. For direct communication, this is considered rude; you should always make eye contact at all times, you know that. But you are a female, and know that you are not to look at them until they specifically address you. They have two narrow slits on their face to serve as a nose, and they have a mouth, although it’s more of a flap that extends up and then back from the bottom cavity, and the appearance is not unlike a child walking around with their mouth agape, tongue stuck to the roof of their mouth.

                As you enter the room, the men immediately bow at the waist and hold their hand out in front of them, upright, palm out, as if swearing an oath. They hold the position for a minute, and then stand. You, as a female, however, know your place. You bend forward at the waist and extend your hand, palm outstretched as if feeding a goat at a petting zoo, waiting for permission. You wait until you feel rough fingers slide against the grooves of your palm before you finally stand up straight again.

                One of them immediately lifts his hands in greeting, both hands held up by his high shoulders, palms out. You smile politely at him, acknowledging him. Aside from varying differences in height, they all look about the same, but this one is the leader, you can tell this by the way he stands a little more forward from the rest of the group. He holds his hand flat against his chest for a moment before he makes a sign across his chest, showing you his name. The sign is very similar to the sign for _Leader,_ with just a few modifications with his fingers, and you are sure that this is a sign name that he has been given simply for this assignment.

                One by one, each of the Tortutaru step forward and present their own names, represented by a letter tapped twice against the side of their bicep. B immediately introduces himself by showing his name, the letter B, held out at a diagonal against his chest.  C holds his hand out in a _C_ shape, and puts his thumb against his cheek, wiggling his hand up and down. You make the shape of the letter of your first name and move it in a quick spiral from the bottom of your chin down to the top of your left shoulder. Ladson makes the _L_ shape with one hand and holds the thumb against his right temple.

                You can see out of the corner of your eye that B is quickly explaining that you have two more, holding a fist out in front of him and shaking it from right to left – _Sadie –_ and then he shifts his body to indicate a new person and makes the sign for stone, bringing one fist down on the back of the other, _Shayne._

                You breathe out slowly after the introductions have finished. B and C immediately step forward to confer with two of the others, and you look at Ladson out of the corner of your eye. You want to make some comment to him, but you don’t know quite what to say, and it would be rude for you to speak in their presence, when they could not understand what you were saying. Maybe they could, if they used telepathy, but you were uncertain how they harnessed their telepathy or how it worked, and so you remained silent, not wanting to be rude or discourteous. In fact, although it would probably be considered rude to do so, there was the inevitable possibility that they _could_ read your mind, and thus it would be best to distract yourself from all sorts of improper or inappropriate thoughts.

                Fortunately, one of the Tortutaru steps forward to greet you. He repeats your sign name and you nod in confirmation. He tilts his head to the side, and holds his palm to the side of his head, his middle finger pointing in to touch his temple. _Why?_

You hesitate for a moment. You know how to sign, but in your native language, and their language had a whole different grammatical shift. They tended not to dwell on artful words and poetic phrases. They got right down to the meaning of the thing; brevity was the soul of wit. You bite your lip and do your best to look nervous, pulling your braid anxiously over one shoulder, stroking and pulling at it gently with your fingertips. It’s a nervous tic, and it’s what had earned you your name in the first place. He nods and repeats your name again, tilting his head to the side as he holds up the first letter of your name. You mimic his gesture and hold up the first letter of your name, spelling the rest out for him slowly.

                He nods in understanding and signs his name again. You notice that he signs it with the letter _T_ and then holds this letter out in front of you. You wait for him to continue, but he just shakes his head. It wasn’t that unusual for Tortutaru to only just have the one sign name, you had read about this, because they didn’t talk and they could identify each other’s space in their heads by however that telekinetic mind thing worked. If they wanted to introduce themselves, they had that symbol, that gesture. That was their name. He seems to frown and holds his hands out in front of him in a series of gestures.

_Name. Want._

You hesitate. _You want name me assign?_ Your grammar is sloppy and assign really isn’t the proper word you want to use in this case, but you are nervous and fumbling. He seems to smile and nod. You have no idea how old he is, whether he has lived for twenty years on his planet, or fifty, or two hundred, but no matter his age, he seems nice. You pause for a moment, thinking. While he had been moving his hands to talk, his mouth, which seemed like it was perpetually open, had made a quiet, rustling “ _taaaaaaaaar tataaaar_ ” sound as he spoke.

                _Taro_ , you offer, spelling it out to him. It’s short, simple and he seems to accept this, spelling the name out for himself as he signs his name on his arm again. He spells the name again and then tilts his head to the side. _Why?_

You point to your ear, to his mouth, and then to your open mouth, pointing into it, focusing on your tongue as you mimic a small “ta-ta-ta” sound, and he seems to understand. He doesn’t have any ears, or slits for ears that you can see, but he seems to understand regardless. Suddenly his eyes widen and he smiles, and he puts his large hand over your head. He doesn’t stroke you or pet you like a cat or anything, just holds his hand there for a moment, as if he was holding down a paperweight. Your shoulders immediately flinch involuntarily up as your neck contracts, but you offer a small smile up at him to show friendliness. You weren’t sure if this was some alien mind-reading trick or not, or just some small gesture of courtesy, but the movement itself hadn’t seemed threatening. Idly, you think back to all of the Tortutaru you had met. There hadn’t been many, honestly, and you didn’t know any of them well enough to know if them putting their hand on your head was a sign of affection or control or what. Out of the corner of your eye you sneak a glance at Ladson, who has his hands moving quickly in front of him. He is laughing and seems to be having a grand time chatting with whatever Tortutaru had picked him.

                _Oh._ You look up at him and gesture between the two of you and use the sign for _team_ with raised eyebrows. He nods his head enthusiastically.

_Well, that was easy._

Apparently, he was the person you were going to be working closely with for the next six months. You say his name again in your head to get it straight. Taro. Wasn’t that an edible root or a vegetable or some sort? You can’t remember, but it doesn’t matter. You are terrible with names, and he seems to like it at least. Idly, you wonder if you should have at least put more effort into trying to think of a better name for him. He will clearly be introducing himself to other people as Taro here, as people on the base would no doubt find it difficult to remember his name if it was just a symbol on his arm. It was a strange thing you had noticed between verbal and non-verbal languages; people had always seemed eager to twist their tongues in order to pronounce names only uttered in the far corners of the galaxy, but they seemed too languid to even raise their hands in the simplest of gestures to recite a name in an unfamiliar way. It was probably not their fault, as a fixation with the oral language was probably instilled in them since early development; still, you could not help but wonder.

                Suddenly he waves his hand to get your attention, taking his hand off of your head as he holds his hand out in front of you sideways, the back of his hand to you as he splays his fingers, pointing to the second finger with his other hand.

                You pause and do the sign for _hierarchy_ , with raised eyebrows to show that you are asking a question that would illicit a yes or no answer. Eyebrows knitted together in confusion usually were accompanied by a question requiring a longer, explicit answer.

                He nods his head, and you finally understand that he means that he is second in command. As if to confirm this, he jabs at his chest repeatedly with a pointed index finger before finally making the sign for _important_.

                You laugh in earnest now, your lips splitting into a full grin as you take in the context of his message through his expression.

_I_ _’m second in command. I’m a pretty big deal._

Oh, he was a snarky bastard, okay. These six months may not be so terrible after all.

                He turns around suddenly and nods to the Leader, and then turns back to you. _Name Taro._

You nod and make the sign for _understand._ He seems about to turn and get back in formation when he turns back to you. He makes the sign for talk, followed by the sign for self, which is pointed at you and held away from his body, before bouncing his thumb off his chest, his fingers hanging limply in the air as he completes the action. _Speak yourself, fine._ You nod quickly, realizing he had just given you permission to introduce yourself if asked.

                They line up two by two, mimicking the stance you had earlier. B and C copy that formation, and you quickly scurry into place behind them. B turns back to you quickly. “They think it would be best if you were to try to not act too…” he hesitates, searching for the right word.

                “Overly professional,” C finishes for him.

                “You are young, nervous, act your age,” B continues. “The First Order can see through guises. Be respectful, but don’t put on airs.”

                You nod quickly, swallowing a lungful of air as you begin to march. Luckily, the Tortutaru seem to be in no particular hurry to get to their next destination, and you walk calmly towards wherever it is they need to go. Craning your neck over B’s shoulder, you can actually see two Storm Troopers leading the way. Right. That made sense. The Tortutaru had also just arrived, and you doubted they knew this space station any better than you did.

                Cautiously, you glance over at Ladson. He doesn’t seem to be particularly stressed at all. Instead, he is letting his eyes wander over to the signs on the doors, the marks on the walls. He feels you staring and quickly looks in your direction. You press your lips together in a tight smile, and he cracks a grin, giving your hand a quick squeeze to assure you that you are going to be fine.

                You didn’t know why you were suddenly so nervous. You had been in this situation plenty of times, meeting people who were far more important than you were. The worst part about it was that they knew it, too, acting as if you were nothing but a droid at their disposal. The truth was that you basically _were_ at their disposal; you were there to facilitate communication and nothing more. You had always been told that if you did your job well, you would basically be invisible, and while you knew this to be true, it couldn’t be denied that you were still another person in the room. It was that fine tightrope of striving to be invisible while still trying to preserve your agency. It was a difficult paradox to master, if it could even be mastered at all. You force yourself to remember that seamless communication is key here.

You, yourself, are of no consequence.

                You stop suddenly when you realize that you have reached your destination. You are in a room that looks similar to a control center, with various machines and panels lining the walls. Some of the stations are manned, some aren’t, but out of the ones that are, you can see different lights flashing with different colored bulbs, although you don’t have the faintest idea what they mean. You look down suddenly as B’s hand twitches. He makes a fist, then moves his fingers so that his thumb and pinky finger are pointing out. He moves his hand slightly downwards _– Stay –_ before he walks forward to join the rest of the Tortutaru, leaving you and Ladson behind.

                Ahead of you, you can see two men. Well, at least one of them is a man. He has short cropped copper hair and you can just barely hear him introduce himself as General Hux, commander of the base. You make a mental note of that and tuck that information away for later. It’s always good to know who the man in charge is, so you know to stay clear of him, or at least, make sure you don’t get on his bad side. The person standing next to him, if it is a person, you know is someone you definitely want to avoid at a glance. He is tall, imposing, not quite as tall as the Tortutaru, but he is dressed completely in black with a hood, which makes him seem a bit taller. He has a mask around his face, a silver plate covering his eyes with only a narrow black slit to see out of. He has a strange sort of covering over his mouth, almost like a black duck’s bill but pointed downwards, pressed flat against his face. You are wondering what exactly could be the purpose of that when suddenly he tilts his head and appears to be looking straight at you.

                You quickly duck your head and cast your eyes to the floor, sucking in a quick breath. Vaguely, in the distance, you can hear General Hux refer to the man standing beside him as Kylo Ren. You are wondering if that is more of a name or a title when you hear the introductions start, with B interpreting for the Tortutaru. You venture a quick glance upwards, but it looks like the man in the mask is still looking directly at you. Or maybe not? He is some distance away and it is difficult to tell whether he is looking at you or just past them. You avert your eyes again, casting them downwards, trying to show respect. If these truly were the overlords of evil, feigning reverence was not out of the question; however, you had a feeling that you wouldn’t be interacting with these two on a daily basis, if at all, and you were silently thankful for that.

                Suddenly you hear footsteps walking towards you, and you glance up to see a swish of a black cape as the man in black, Kylo Ren, walks towards you. You hesitate for a moment, pulling in another quick breath as he stops in front of you. It’s not so much that you’re afraid of him as you’re afraid of what’s behind the mask. Is there even a person under there, or is he some kind of alien being? You flick your eyes up, finally, to see him watching you, appraising you. You bite back your fear and stare back, stare into the black slit of the mask, trying not to seem too afraid or too confrontational, or too much of anything. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that B and the others have all turned to face you, and you feel your cheeks go hot with the sudden attention.

 _I_ _nvisible_ , you decide right then. _I definitely like it when people think I’m invisible._

                There is a crackling from under the mask suddenly, a low metallic voice asking for your name. You give it softly, making sure to add a prompt “sir” in there out of courtesy, before you cast your eyes back down again. You don’t look up until you hear his footsteps retreating away from you. You nervously glance back up but can’t quite make out the expression on B’s face. They continue their conversation in quieter tones, and you can’t really make out what they are saying over the sound of your heart drumming in your ears. You feel Ladson leaning a little closer, his shoulder almost bumping yours, as he grabs your forearm and gives it a quick squeeze.

                You let out a breath and force a small smile in his direction without really moving your head, trying not to call any notice to yourself. After a few minutes that seem to stretch on for hours, they finally make their way back towards you, and you quickly fall into step behind B again as you make your way back to the familiar territory of your apartment.

                “We have to go,” B says hastily as you fish out the access card to your room. “But you did very well. We won’t be long.” His eyes seem to linger on you for a moment longer than they should have before you head into your room, with Ladson following behind you. Once inside, you shut the door quickly and look at him with a puzzled expression on your face before you burst into a fit of giggles. He cracks a grin and looks down.

                “Need a hug?”

                “Yes, thanks.” You quickly wrap your arms around his middle, squeezing him just a little bit harder than you mean to. “I don’t even know what that was,” you say as you pull away from him. “Did that masked guy ask for your name or just mine?”

                “Just you,” Ladson confirms. “It was weird.”

                “Very weird.” You look at him for another moment before you burst into laughter again.

                You can hear Sadie call your name in the other room, and you quickly make your way over to the living room door and open it. Sadie is standing there, her hands on her hips. “We heard you laughing. What’s so funny?”

                “Do you really want to know?” you ask as you make your way over to the couches, taking the one opposite from where Shayne is sitting.

                “If it’s funny, it’s worth telling,” Sadie says as she sits down beside you.

                You look back up at Ladson for confirmation. “We can share, right? This is a safe space, after all.”

                He hesitates for a moment and glances around before his face relaxes. “Yeah, it’s just us here. We’re free to debrief amongst ourselves after assignments, I think. We should be fine.”

                “Okay, so there’s a guy in a mask,” you say. You notice Shayne leading forward slightly, taking an interest. “His name is Kylo Ren. He works with a guy named General Hux who is like, the commander here or something.”

                Sadie tilts her head to the side. “How is that funny?”

                “Nothing funny happened,” Ladson explains, picking the story up from you. “But while B and C were busy introducing the Tortutaru, who are super nice, by the way, Kylo Ren decided to walk over and stand directly in front of her for a good while, just staring at her.”

                You blush at him in confusion. “Surely it wasn’t _that_ long.”

                He shrugs, rolling his eyes to the side. “Felt like a long while. To me, at least.”

                “Do you think it has anything to do with what B said to me?” you ask. “Back in the room? Telling me that the First Order can see through guises?”

                “Possibly,” Ladson says.

                “Maybe they were just shocked to see a pretty girl on board,” Sadie says. “With all of these Storm Trooper boys running around, who knows when’s the last time they’ve seen a woman.”

                “Storm Troopers can be girls too, can’t they?” you ask, because you really have no idea, and they all shrug. “Anyway, what do you think he meant by see through guises? Do they have telepathy too?”

                Shayne sits up and rubs his hands together. “B and C won’t be back for a while yet, right?”

                “Oh no,” Ladson sighs and rubs his temple with one hand in an exasperated motion. “Not your crazy theories again.”

                “We should know why we’re here,” Shayne insists. “I think it has something to do with the Force.”

                “The Force,” Sadie repeats skeptically. You had heard of the Force and had a vague idea of what it did, and what it was, but it didn’t really mean all that much to you.

                “We know that the Tortutaru use telepathy, but is their telepathy inherent to their species, or do they use the Force?” Shayne asks. “Because if they can, they could be more attuned to sniff out other Force-sensitive people.”

                “And you think that’s why the First Order wants them here?” Sadie asks. “To see if people are Force-sensitive?” Shayne nods. “Why? What does the Force even do?”

                “It gives you powers,” Shayne explains. “Some have a stronger pull to it than others, I guess, but basically you can develop psychic powers and abilities through using the Force.”

                “So they want to sniff out Force-sensitive people in their army to do what?” Sadie asks. “Train them? Make them become super soldiers or something?”

                “That,” Ladson says. “Or kill them.”

                You and Sadie exchange a worried glance. “Surely you’ve heard of Palpatine’s Purge,” Shayne says. “When the Sith went through all the trouble of eliminating anyone that was Force-sensitive so that they wouldn’t become Jedi and oppose them? They-”

                “We shouldn’t be talking about this,” Ladson snaps suddenly, and you turn to look at him. “If the First Order _does_ have someone that’s adept with mind reading, do you really want them to know you know?”

                Sadie makes a noise in the back of her throat but doesn’t say anything. “Why does it matter?” you ask at last. They all turn to you. “I mean, none of us have the Force, right? We don’t really know why we’re here other than to interpret what they say. The rest of this is just wild theory and speculation. If anyone really was reading our minds right now, they would know that we don’t actually know anything.”

                Sadie bites her lip. “But it wouldn’t bother you though? If someone was trying to read your mind?”

                You shrug, letting your arms collapse at your sides. “I don’t know, but like I said, I don’t know anything, so I wouldn’t be of any use to anyone.” You rub your temple in frustration. The atmosphere in the room is suddenly tense. “Look, we’re only here for six months, all right? It’s not that big of a deal, and the Tortutaru actually seem pretty nice. Just, six months and then you never even have to think about the First Order or the Force ever again, okay?”

                “Exactly,” Ladson says, and you appreciate the conviction in his voice when he says it.

                “Good,” you reply. “Now if you don’t mind me, I’m going to take a shower.” You turn around and enter your room, closing the door behind you. You move to go into the bathroom but hesitate, leaning against the door frame for support. Maybe it was better that you didn’t know why you were here. Maybe you didn’t want to know. Curiosity was _not_ a part of the job description.

                You close your eyes, and when you do, you can still see the masked face staring back at you. Even now, although he’s not even in the room, you still shrivel under its unrelenting gaze. “Just six months,” you mumble to yourself as you turn on the stream of hot water. “Just six more months.”

                You had a feeling that this was going to be your mantra over the next few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had already written most of the way through chapter two, so I rushed through editing it to get it out to you guys as soon as possible! I always love feedback and to hear from other people who are interested in languages as well, and will be more than happy to answer any questions if you have any. 
> 
> For anyone that's curious, there are usually two different types of name signs: descriptive (DNS) and arbitrary (ANS). Descriptive name signs sound like what it implies, descriptive, and usually shows physical features although it can be applied to emotional attributes as well, such as Shayne's name sign being the sign for rock. An arbitrary name sign is usually just a sign without any other meaning, usually using the first letter of someone's name. Fun fact: my name sign is actually the shape for 'K' in a spiral down my left shoulder, both because I'm left-handed and because I pull my hair over my left shoulder when I get nervous. xD 
> 
> Although, it's not uncommon for someone to have a family sign: my husband's family all tap the first letter of their name under the bottom right-hand corner of the chin. For example, he had an aunt that signed her name with the 'M' sign, but he doesn't know her full name, just the sign. We THINK it's Margaret, but she passed away years ago so we'll never know for sure. If it ever comes up in conversation, she's just M on the chin. Knowing the sign for someone's name and not the name itself is actually a pretty common thing in a lot of Deaf families, particularly the older generations. :)


	3. Chapter 3

                “So you know how I’m not one to ask stupid questions?”

                “Mm?” B glances sideways at you. You are sitting on a stool at the island in the kitchen at breakfast the next morning, idly pushing cereal around your bowl with a spoon.  

                 “I just want to know, is there anything up with that mask?” you ask. “Like, is this Kylo Ren guy human or what?”

                “I believe he is, but I couldn’t say,” B responds curtly as he glances away from you. You are smart enough not to bog him down with pointless questions that don’t pertain to the assignment, so when you do tend to ask an off-the-cuff question, he tends to have a ready answer.

                “I had nightmares about that mask last night,” Ladson says nonchalantly. He is sitting to your left, and so you don’t have to do more than tilt your head to look over at him. You’re a bit surprised, but decide it’s better to say nothing. Still, he catches your expression regardless. “What? The thing was creepy.”

                “Now I’m almost glad I didn’t go yesterday,” Sadie says from her spot on the couch.

                “That was a voice distorter of some kind, wasn’t it?” you ask. “I could hardly understand him when he spoke at first.”

                “That’s got to be a bitch to interpret for,” Shayne says, coming to sit beside Ladson, skewing up his face in a terrible impression of C. “I’m sorry, but could you tone down your modulator just a wee bit? I can’t understand a bloody word you’re saying.”

                You laugh at this, as you do so many other things. Accents make the job harder for sure, although it’s one of the understood difficulties of the job. There was absolutely nothing worse than trying to interpret your way through a dialogue where you couldn’t discern the specific lexes of one half of the conversation, while the other half was laced with inside jokes and references that didn’t make a lick of sense to you. It was a challenge that was sometimes fun, sometimes daunting, but always a seemingly superfluous struggle. Attempting to understand someone through a mask, with their voice purposely distorted, definitely highlighted the _unnecessary_ aspect of that struggle.

                “Well, I’ll find out this morning,” B says with a nonchalant sip of his mug. His candor surprises you as you all turn around to look at him.

                “So whatever you’re doing, you have Kylo Ren’s direct involvement?” Shayne asks. “Can we suspect then that General Hux will be there as well?”

                “That information is not relevant to your assignment,” B replies coolly. “You are to report to your scheduled room assignments at the times I posted on the fridge.” You all look over to the fridge, which is completely bare. “C!”

                “I got it, I got it,” C says as he comes in the room, a piece of paper clenched in the corner of his mouth as he fights to get his shirt on.

                “Gross,” you can hear Sadie mutter under her breath.

                He looks to tack it to the fridge, but can find nothing to hold it with. “Oh well, here you go,” he says as he places it on the counter. It’s closest to you, and you suspect he did that on purpose.

                “And I’m with Taro, right?” you ask, looking up at them.

                “He took a liking to you,” B says with a wink in your direction, and you can’t help but beam. It wasn’t that you were worried about being liked, it was just a work assignment, but at the same time, you had to work with him for six months. It wasn’t necessarily a friendship you were concerned with, but a proper business relationship. If you had found out that yesterday you had inadvertently done something to cause Taro to want to stop working with you, it would have wrecked your confidence for the entire duration of your stay.

                “We should be off,” C murmurs to B, and he nods quickly as he sets his mug down in the sink.

                “Please don’t let me hear that you were late for your first assignments,” he tells you. “Sadie, Shayne, you both should go a little bit earlier to introduce yourselves to your partners. You two already know your partners, but it can’t hurt to talk to them and get to know them a little bit better. Just have a regular conversation, probe for their language skills to help aid in your interpretation, but under no circumstances are you to ask or discuss what their ultimate objective here is. Do you understand?”

                You all nod solemnly and wait in silence for them to leave the room. “Well, that was pretty ominous,” Shayne says at last, when he's sure they are out of earshot.

                “Are you still poking your nose where it doesn’t belong?” Ladson asks.

                “No, I’m going to drop it,” Shayne says. “I’m going to do my job. But I’m just curious though. I can’t help that.”

                “Well, try to help it,” you say bitterly. You turn to Ladson. “Did you really have nightmares about Kylo Ren last night?” He shrugs noncommittally and looks away from you. “Do you think he’s human?”

                “Humanoid,” he confirms. “A bit tall and lanky, though, but I don’t know how much of that was the suit.”

                “Well, usually if you’re going to wear armor you want it to make you look a bit beefier,” you say with a roll of your shoulders. “I don’t know, that voice modulator thing is weird though. Maybe he’s wearing that weird mask covering because he’s got like, tentacles under there or something.”

                “Okay, now I really want to see this guy to know what the two of you are going on about,” Sadie says.

                Ladson rolls his eyes. “Trust us when we say that you really don’t.” He turns around to address everyone in the room. “Since you all slept in, I had a little private time to talk to B. Apparently General Hux _can_ be nice if you catch him in a good mood, but he was warned that Kylo Ren is another beast entirely. He’s apparently been known to fly off the handle and exhibit intense fits of violence and take his rage out on whatever’s nearby.” He shrugs. “Just so you know. Stay away from him.”

                “Yikes,” Sadie says. Ladson turns back to the counter, and you can’t help but catch the look in his eye as he turns. He’s afraid. He’s afraid that you might be in danger here, that this mission is a lot more precarious than they had previously let on. What if he was right? What if you were all in physical danger from being here?

                There was nothing you could do about it now. You had already signed the contract. Six months here, and then you could go home.

                You push your half-eaten bowl of cereal away, suddenly not able to eat anymore. You weren’t scared exactly, no, you had nothing to hide. You didn’t have the Force, you didn’t have any secret information that they wanted, and your pockets weren’t lined with valuable resources. You had absolutely nothing to offer them aside from your linguistic skills. And when those were no longer needed, would they…?

                You shake your head. No, they wouldn’t kill you. That would be silly. They had a reputation for being evil, for committing atrocities, but those were soldiers in the middle of battle. This had to be different. This may have been a military installation, but surely it couldn’t be completely run by soldiers. There had to be other ordinary civilians, ordinary technicians, cooks, and medical staff, keeping the base up and running on a daily basis. You shake your head and let your forehead slip into the palm of your hand. The job hadn’t even really started yet and already you wanted to turn tail and head home.

 

                In a group, you head down the corridors, getting lost exactly four times before Sadie, to the surprise of everyone, leads you in the correct direction. You had always thought that you had a pretty keen navigational sense, but considering you got everyone more lost than they had been when Shayne was directing the charge, you felt that you could no longer own to your previous navigational skills. Fortunately for you, there were two rooms on each side of the hall, and so you would all stay pretty close together if any of you needed anything. Usually interpreters worked in teams of two for lengthy assignments, or simply for support, since interpreting could be extremely mentally and physically taxing, but since there was a limited number of you, you had to do the best you could with what you had.

                You enter the room to see a table and three chairs, one on one side of the table, and two on the other. You huff and immediately pull one of the chairs around to the side of the table, so that you are an equal distance between both parties. Setting up the room was always an overlooked part of your job, and so you had promptly learned to develop upper body strength, so you could quickly and easily move chairs, tables, and other heavy furnishings as required. It was important to take a seat between the two parties, enforcing as neutral of a position as possible, while maintaining a clear line of sight so that the person you were signing with could see you clearly. It was no longer a surprise to you how often this fact was overlooked, or even ignored, even in the most formal of settings.

                You sit down in the chair, pleased to see that it swivels quite easily. It would definitely make it easier to turn your body between the two parties to make the turn-taking aspect of communication clear, but it had a substantial drawback. Shooting an anxious look at the door, you kick off from one of the table legs and spin in a little circle, like a little kid. You do it a second time, and a third, and a fourth, until you see the door open and you quickly plant both feet on the floor and wait for your vision to clear a bit to see who it is.

                It doesn’t take you long; there is no one that tall anywhere else on board, and you quickly wave to Taro with a sheepish grin on your face. He looks amused, and the first two fingers on his right hand tap against his palm. _Ha-ha._

                You smile and scoot out of the way so he can take his place on the other side of the table, informing you as he moves that someone else will be there shortly. Taro explains that he is going to ask questions, and the person that comes in is going to give answers. He shrugs his shoulders as he sits down in the chair, moving both wrists in a circle with his thumb and pinky extended to indicate that this would simply be a standard assignment. You nod your head, receptive and professional. He tells you that this won’t take long, but you will have these kinds of meetings almost daily, maybe several of them a day, and you nod your head again, knowing better than to ask any questions.

                _So_. He glances at you, then at the door, and shrugs his shoulders a bit, as if figuring that you two have enough time for a quick chat. _Why interpreter you? Prefer why?_

You pick up your hands, again a bit nervous with your grammar, but you had expected this sort of question, and saw it coming. You tell him that you always had a gift for languages; it was something that had always come easy to you as a child. You had always liked learning languages and meeting new people and seeing how they interacted within their given culture. You explain that over time it had evolved into less of a passive interest and more of a vocation, especially since you always found it easy to read people and sense the true agenda behind their words. You don’t tell him this, but you were always deeply interested in the _way_ people spoke. Sometimes it was awkward pausing that gave it away, or the way they would fumble over certain words or signs, or the specific choice of words they used, but in the end, it always interested you to know that at the root of every syllable or gesture, there was an emotion, whether it be happiness, or jealousy, or pride, or disgust, there was always an impression of a feeling laced throughout whatever was said, and it was your job to convey not only the words, but the feeling the words carried with them. Communication didn’t simply lie within the narrow confines of letters and grammar; communication was an intangible, indescribable energy to make another being understand your own feelings and intentions, or purposely disguise them, and it was your job to convey that. On a massive scale, it was a very minor pursuit, but between two people, there could be no greater profession in the whole of the galaxy. 

                He listens to you babble out your passions with interest, and you sense that he can read your excitement in the way you move your hands energetically in front of you. He smiles and looks up at the ceiling when you are done, and he is quiet for a long while, as if processing what you had said. When he looks back at you, the friendly expression on his face has slipped, and there is something different in his eyes. He points to you. He gestures around you, taking his time to indicate the vastness of it all. _Here_. He hesitates for a moment before he meets your eyes again and makes the sign for fear.

_Are you afraid to be here?_

You blink at him, visibly taken aback, and he quickly asks if he was clear. You nod your head hurriedly and assert that yes, he was clear, before you bite your lip and look away, trying to think. _Why would he ask you a question like that? Was this really a dangerous mission after all? Was he simply asking if you were afraid because you were on this base far away from home?_ You know you can’t ask him any of these questions, and so you give the most neutral, but truthful, answer that you can.

                Lifting your hands confidently into the air, you tell him firmly, and clearly, that no, you are not afraid. You explain that you are an interpreter here, and your role here is to serve in communication. You don’t know anything about the assignment at hand, and so you don’t know anything that can be valuable to anyone. If you don’t know anything, there is no reason for anyone to come after you. You pause, then look him in the eye and explain what he already knows: that if an interpreter does their job well, they are invisible. They don’t get noticed. If you don’t get noticed, there is no need to be afraid.

                He seems to consider this for a moment, and when you put your hands down he utilizes the casual sign to show that he understands: resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, he moves his forearm in a stiff up and down motion, holding his wrist steady, with his thumb and pinky extended. He holds up his hands again, and collects his thoughts before signing. You take in each word carefully, putting together what he means to say in a series of eloquent sentences in your head.

                _“Not being noticed is not a choice, nor is it something you can control. Even if you do not speak to anyone here, you are still seen. People can see your face. You give off waves of emotion the same as anyone else, whether by sight or smell or-”_ He touches the tip of his middle finger to his forehead and spells out the next word for emphasis. _“-sense. You can choose to be a shadow in the darkness, but you can be easily summoned by a simple flick of the light.”_ He moves his fingers to imitate turning on a light switch, and you nod slowly. Was he trying to warn you that you had already been seen? Or was this just a bit of preemptive advice? He puts his hands down and you hesitate, not sure how to respond to this.

                Fortunately for you, you don’t have to. At that moment, the door slides open and a Storm Trooper in silver armor walks in. The rest of the Storm Troopers that you had seen had all worn white armor, so this must be someone of special rank or importance. His eyes sweep across the room, across you, and settle on Taro. _Good._ You had made sure to sit in this position to make him the ultimate authority in the room and keep as much focus on him as possible. The Storm Trooper steps inside and sits down in the chair on the other side of the table, as if he already knows why he is there. You immediately turn your head to look at Taro, and he clearly makes the sign for captain on his shoulder. He holds it for a moment to make sure you emphasize the rank, before spelling out the name. _Phasma._

                “Captain Phasma?” you ask. He had posed it as a statement, not a question, and you bite your tongue at your own incompetence. In return, Captain Phasma reaches up to remove his helmet and you blink at the wisps of pale blonde hair as your eyes settle on his face.

                It’s not a him.

                It’s a her.

                You blush at your own stupidity, of _course_ there were probably female Storm Troopers on board, and you chide yourself for not realizing this sooner. Still, you are a machine in this environment, not a person, and so you do your best to keep your face level and press all of your surprise and embarrassment into a box, deep down away from you.

                You look at Taro, who asks why her armor is silver, and she tilts her head to the side as you repeat the question. “Are you sure you don’t mean to ask why I'm a woman?” she asks. “Is that your real question?”

                You can’t help the frown that tugs on the corners of your lips. No, he had clearly made the sign for _silver_ , but you shake off any personal feelings and repeat her question exactly the way she had asked it, matching her casual, yet aloof, tone as best you could. He repeats his own question, this time including the sign for _rank_ , and you clarify the question aloud. This seems to please her, and you slowly push away any personal reactions and thoughts and become a messenger, carrying their emotions and meanings and intentions back and forth to each other.

                Even though your mind is working too fast to process most of the conversation, you realize that you like Captain Phasma. It was one of those snap judgements about people that you couldn’t help making, whether you wanted to or not. Idly you wonder if she had worked with an interpreter before, because she was doing everything right. She was looking directly at him and ignoring you entirely, for starters. Some people had a constant tendency to stare at the interpreter, which bothered you to no end. You weren’t the one they were conversing with, and so you sometimes had to hint for them to actually look at the person they were talking to. She also spoke directly to him too. She didn’t bother with any of that, “Tell him I say…” or “Let him know that…” nonsense. Instead, she spoke what she meant in clear, concise phrases, which was something else you appreciated. You assumed most of this had to do with her actual demeanor and rank, but it was still something you appreciated nonetheless. Some people liked to hear themselves speak and would go on and on, repeating the same point again and again, taking a hundred words to express what they could have said in three. Captain Phasma was straight to the point, didn’t use any pretenses, and answered every question directly. It made your job so, so much easier.

                Taro had been right. The conversation didn’t take that long, maybe only thirty to forty minutes at most. At the very end, Captain Phasma had said, “Please thank your interpreter for me. She did an excellent job.” However, you were still so focused on the job at hand as you signed the message back to Taro that it completely went over your head as to who she was referring to. Taro smiled and gestured to give you permission to speak. You then blinked at him in confusion before you repeated the message back to yourself in your head and put two and two together.

                “Thank you,” you call after her, and you hope the message reached her as the doors snapped shut behind her. 

                You sink back into the chair and press your fingers into your eyes, rubbing at both eyelids in one exaggerated motion. He smiles at you as you sit back up, and you move your arms back and forth at your sides to get the blood flowing back into them. It felt like you had been asleep for the entire conversation, and were finally waking up inside yourself. It felt like you just woke up from taking a nap, but your sore muscles and fuzzy thoughts told you that you needed to take another one. It was a stressful job, both physically and mentally, and one that got a little better with time, but not much. The exhaustion of taking one language, one side of a conversation, figuring out its meaning, figuring out how to express the meaning in another language, saying it out loud with the correct tone and emotion, taking another side of the conversation, figuring out its meaning, expressing that meaning in another language, and using your hands and facial expressions to show their tone of voice was a headache to think about if you had to rationalize that this entire process took place in literal seconds. And then you did it again. Over and over again. For forty minutes straight.

                Taro waits for you to collect yourself before he asks if you are _good_. You don’t know whether he means the assignment or if you yourself are good, so you just respond in the affirmative. He reminds you that you have six more months of this, and you shrug as if this makes no difference to you, because it really doesn’t. The whole exchange hadn’t been that bad, really, you had experienced far worse. He pats his stomach and then gestures to the door. _Go get some food._ You nod quickly and tell him that you’ll see him tomorrow as you stumble out into the hallway.

                “Told you she was still in there,” Sadie says as you join the three of them out in the corridor.

                “Let’s get a move on,” Shayne says quickly. The rest of them start walking and Shayne glances back at you. “I don’t think that silver one liked us hanging about in the hall too much.”

                “Oh.” That’s all you can say, because you aren’t sure what you could say that wouldn’t break confidentiality. They know this, and don’t press you. Here in the hallway, you felt extremely exposed, and it didn’t feel right to say anything. Later in the room, with B present, you could feel free to debrief and express your thoughts and frustrations or ask for advice, such as, “Is there a sign for Starkiller Base?” and, “If X comes up in conversation, should you do Y or Z?” In the privacy and safety of the group, you could safely defuse your frustration with yourself for not realizing that Captain Phasma was a woman, since your intrapersonal thoughts did affect your interpretations, consciously or not, but it was not something to dwell upon here.   

                Fortunately, they are all headed down to the cafeteria anyway, and you are first in line. As you emerge into the lunch room, though, you don’t see a free table. It must be a popular hour, as most of the tables are filled with Storm Troopers. You are about to ask Sadie what you should do when you hear a voice calling out to you.

                “Hey girl, over here.” You see Captain Phasma gesturing to you on your far left, and you nervously walk over to her table, afraid that she might try to talk to you about what she had just discussed with Taro. That was a very strict, very big no-no. Assignments could be discussed with B and the others afterwards for the sake of learning and, yes, sometimes venting, but talking to another party about what had just transpired was a big, red, forbidden no.  

                Still, you find yourself thanking her as you take a seat across from her. Her silver helmet is sitting on the table next to her tray of food, and you can’t help but take the time to stare at it up close, seeing nicks and sharp indents in the armor that you can only assume are from battle. “Do you have a name, girl?”

                You give it to her quickly and force your eyes away from the helmet as they go back up to meet her face. “I’m Captain Phasma,” she says, as if you didn’t remember her name before, and you nod your head quickly as you pick up your fork. She is watching you carefully, studying you, and you are not quite sure why. “So do you really not remember? We were told you probably wouldn’t.”

                “Remember?” You blink at her and tilt your head to the side. _Remember what? Was there something you were supposed to remember?_

                Captain Phasma tilts back her head and laughs, a careless, free sound. “You really don’t, do you? How bizarre.”

                You’re about to ask for clarification when Sadie sits down beside you. “We really don’t,” she chimes in, moving her hands wildly about in front of her face as she talks. “All of the words and signs and movements and meanings it’s like a big whole mess up in there trying to figure out what everyone’s saying and what everyone means to say that you’re so focused on getting the words from here to there and there to here that you don’t actually have the time to really process any of it. I’m surprised I can remember my own name afterwards.”

                “Captain Phasma,” she says, looking at Sadie like she’s a creature that she had never set eyes on before.

                “Sadie,” she says after a long breath, introducing Shayne and Ladson as they sit down.

                You are pleased to see that the conversation does not focus on interpreting or whatever was discussed in that room. Instead, Captain Phasma seems delighted to tell you all about the workings of the base, informing you when usual meal times are and mentally handing you piles of important information that would be invaluable to know over the next six months. It is very, very appreciated, although you can’t help but notice Storm Troopers watching you out of the corner of their eyes. It’s not just you, you realize that. It’s the four of you, dressed so differently and seemingly serving no real purpose…

                What Taro says comes back to you. It doesn’t matter if you serve a purpose or not, they are going to notice you anyway. _Being noticed is not a choice, nor is it something you can control_. He was right. Here you were, sitting at the Captain’s table, of all places. You were bound to be noticed. People were going to see you, and people might even talk about seeing you. You were noticed now, and there was nothing you could do about it.

                If that was the case, the only thing you could do was put the best image of yourself out there. If people knew nothing about you, then there would be nothing for them to talk about. People couldn’t take an interest in something they knew nothing about, unless, as you would soon come to learn, they were extremely interested in _why_ they knew nothing at all about you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, but I had to include Captain Phasma in this story! I absolutely adore Gwendoline Christie and I hope we will get to see more of Captain Phasma in the next movie! And it seems that you guys like my little notes and insights at the end of each chapter, so I'll continue writing them if there is some useful nugget of information that I talked about in the chapter that I want to emphasize on or pass along! 
> 
> In terms of interpreting, it's a different experience for everyone, but I know I personally tend to zone out completely while I'm working. There has been more times than I can count where someone has thanked me for my role and I interpreted it without realizing that they were talking to me as the interpreter, that's how out of it I am! Other times, especially if I'm interpreting a lecture (my specialty was always education, K-12 and university) an hour will fly by and I'll have absolutely no idea what was discussed or what the lecture was about. If I'm interpreting a biology lecture, for example, I might remember that they're talking about cells, but if you actually asked me to name the parts of a cell, I would probably come up empty because I'm just so focused on the actual process at hand that I don't internally process any of the information; it's like it just skims off the top of my brain and out of my hands. Sometimes I'll be working for an hour and I will swear up and down that barely ten minutes have gone by.....it's definitely a really mentally consuming job! xD
> 
> PS: It's not a cop-out, I promise! What goes on in the meetings and the overall purpose of why they're there will be revealed later...I just don't want to spoil anything too early! xD


	4. Chapter 4

                The four of you are sitting around the living room idly, drinking and waiting for B and C to come back. Your conversation had been light and casual, talking about the different things that Captain Phasma had told you about the ship. Unfortunately, though, it wasn’t long until Shayne brought up the topic that was really on his mind.

                “I think they brought us on board to assess the mental conditions of the Storm Troopers here,” he says during one of the periodic lulls in conversation.

                “Not this again,” Ladson sighs as he rubs his forehead.

                “Either that, or to assess their loyalty,” Shayne continues. “I mean, think about it. If the Tortutaru can read minds, why do we have to interpret anything for them? Shouldn’t they be able to just know what the Storm Troopers are thinking?”

                “I don’t think it works like that,” you tell him. “I mean, yes, they have telepathy to communicate with each other, but I don’t know how easy or hard it would be for them to actually read someone else’s mind.” Ladson shoots you a frustrated look, and you spread your hands out in front of you. “What?”

                “Don’t encourage him,” he says. “Seriously, Shayne, everything you’re saying sounds like a bunch of ridiculous conspiracy theories.”

                “Well, of course they’re theories,” Shayne says. “Because we have nothing else to go on.”

                “I think the point is stop trying to figure it out,” Sadie says softly, shooting a wink in Ladson’s direction. He smiles at her gratefully, and you take a quick sip of your drink and avert your eyes from the whole scene. Ladson was the perfect specimen to describe the word handsome: curly blonde locks, long face, high cheekbones, pointed chin, and Sadie had already told you that she was going to use the next six months _wisely_. As much as you wanted to avoid any drama within the group, you didn’t really care either way. If anything, Sadie’s endeavors could provide a source of entertainment and a welcome distraction from whatever was really going on around here.

                Suddenly, a door opens and B and C come walking in from their bedroom. You realize that there is no direct door to the living room from the outside, and although that could be good in a way, you realize that it meant that B and C could have potentially been listening to your entire conversation this whole time. Their casual demeanor makes you think they didn’t, but it’s something to be aware of in the future.

                “What are you four talking about?” B asks casually as he sits down beside you while C goes into the kitchen to get drinks from the fridge.

                “Just stuff,” Sadie says, waiting for C to join him. “We ate lunch with Captain Phasma today.”

                B’s nose crinkles, as if he’s not sure what to make of this. “How did that all come about?”

                All eyes look to you, and you glance down. When you glance back up, his expression is a mixture of surprise and confusion. “She called me over,” you tell him. “I didn’t want to be rude.”

                “Yes, well,” he tilts his head to one side. No one mentions to him that you had interpreted for her earlier in the day, and you are thankful for that. You cross your fingers and hope it won’t come up. Not that you’re afraid of getting in trouble, per say, but you knew he would frown upon it. “I can’t tell you it was the best idea, but if she did invite you over, I doubt it matters much. I trust you’re all smart enough not to ask the wrong questions, especially in front of a captain of the First Order, no less.”

                “So how were your first assignments today?” C asks in a genial tone, trying to lighten the mood. Sadie goes first, of course, talking a mile a minute about a time when her Tortutaru partner accidentally landed on her home planet, mistaking it for another. This strikes you as curious, considering her home planet is one of considerable wealth, but you decide it would be best not to comment on it. Ladson goes next and is fairly brief, throwing a lot of academic words around to describe his process, and Shayne goes third. His assignment was a bit rougher than yours, considering it was clear that whoever he had interpreted for had never worked with an interpreter before.

                “The Storm Trooper kept asking me all these weird questions,” Shayne lamented. “He’s like, wow, it’s so cool that you know sign language. I wish I could learn. And I’m like, which one? There’s over nine thousand in the galaxy.” You all laugh, more as a way to ease the frustration than anything else. Of course there was a sign language for pretty much every spoken language, but for some reason, people seemed convinced that if you knew one sign language, you knew them all. To be fair, with over nine thousand signed languages, there was definitely a great deal of overlap, but each had their own distinctions and nuances that were of grave importance. One specific example you had come across was a sign that meant _sex_ on one planet and was the sign for a type of fruit on another. That sort of thing could get confusing fast if you weren’t paying attention to contextual clues.

                 “And how was yours?” B asks, looking at you.

                “It was fine,” you reply lamely. “You know, nothing really weird happened or anything. It was just an assignment.” He stares at you, and you feel compelled to continue. “I mean, I kind of zoned out of it. I honestly can’t remember any of the conversation to even have any questions about it.”

                B nods, satisfied. “How was your assignment?” Shayne asks.

                “That bloody mask, it’s dreadful,” C says, burying his face in his hands. You all laugh appreciatively.

                “It’s not a laughing matter,” B says quietly. He gets up hurriedly and walks to a corner of the room, rubbing his forehead with his fingers.

                C offers you a quick apology. “Apparently Kylo Ren has a few talents that we were quite unaware of when we first agreed to take this assignment.” You wait anxiously for him to continue and he sighs. “Apparently Kylo Ren seems to have some mind-reading capabilities of his own. He does not need us to communicate with the Tortutaru and does not appreciate our presence on board.”

                “Fortunately, General Hux _respectfully_ disagrees.” He glances back at C, who looks away. Suddenly, you are extremely grateful that you were not interpreting whatever morning meetings they had.

                “So Kylo Ren can read minds?” Shayne asks. Of course Shayne would be the one to ask. B just nods. “To what extent?”

                “We’re not exactly sure,” B admits. “We know he uses the Force, but he is apparently unable to read the minds of the Tortutaru unless they wish it.” He glances back at C.

                “He was quite frustrated with that revelation,” he adds in the happiest tone he can muster.

                “Are you all right?” Sadie asks, reading between the lines.

                “ _We_ are fine,” B says, which immediately makes you wonder if there is someone else aboard the ship that is _not_ fine. You make a mental note to avoid Kylo Ren at all costs. You look up to see everyone else’s reactions, when you notice Ladson staring directly at you. The rest of them notice it too.

                “Something on your mind?” you ask as nonchalantly as possible.

                “What were you thinking about?” Ladson asks, rubbing the edge of his thumb against his lower lip.

                “Just now?” you ask blankly.

                “Yesterday,” Ladson says. “When Kylo Ren was watching you.”

                You blink, and your face flushes at the implication. “You mean to tell me he was reading my mind?”

                “What were you thinking about?” B asks seriously as he comes back to sit on the couch, and your jaw drops a little as you try to think back, desperately racking your brain for your exact thoughts.

                “I was wondering what was under his mask,” you say suddenly. “That’s what I was thinking about, when he looked at me, the first time.” You gulp. “I mean, I couldn’t be sure he was _actually_ looking at me, you know, with the mask and everything. But that’s all, really, I was just thinking about whether or not he was a person or some kind of alien. I wasn’t thinking anything _bad_ or anything.” You look at each of them in turn, as if desperate to have them believe you. Unfortunately, it’s not them you have to convince. “Do you think that insulted him? Should I apologize?”

                “No.” B’s tone is cool and clipped. “No, you will not apologize to him because you will not seek him out. Kylo Ren is extremely dangerous and you will not go anywhere near him. In fact, I would suggest that you, all of you, make great strides to avoid him. Do I make myself clear?”

                “Don’t need to tell me twice,” Sadie says under her breath.

                “Good,” B sighs. “Now I suggest you all get to bed. You had a trying first day and you could all use some rest.” He lets out a breath. “For any of you who journal, I would suggest using discretion, even amongst your private thoughts. For now, we are guests here, but there are powerful people who do not want us here, and do not like what we have come here to do. Please exercise caution.” With that, he turns around and storms into his room.

                C sits up from the couch. “You heard him. Into bed, the lot of you. We’ll see you in the morning for breakfast.” He stands up and waits for you each to return to your separate rooms. You try to glance at Sadie out of the corner of your eye, but she is looking down at the floor. You go into your room and shut the door behind you, crawling onto your bed and burying your face in the pillow. Had Kylo Ren really used the Force to read your mind? Could he really do that? You hadn’t really _felt_ like he was reading your mind though. Would you really feel something like that? You could only imagine it to be a painful, intrusive affair.

                You close your eyes and try to drift off to sleep. Six months, that was it. You just had to avoid trouble for six months, and then you could go home.

                Luckily, the next few days pass without incident. Some of the Storm Troopers take their helmets off when they talk, but others do not. You honestly hate that hollow tone of voice from inside the helmet, as it occasionally makes it extremely hard to hear what they are saying, but you do the best you can. On either the third or fourth day, you notice that Taro is signing differently, favoring his left hand instead of his right. You feel constantly distracted and decide to ask him about it after the Storm Trooper leaves.

                You lift up your hands and ask him if his hand is okay, mentioning your idle perceptions. He looks down at his hands as if he hasn’t really noticed and shrugs. You laugh lightly and joke that you hope he’s not being trained in some sort of combat.

                He looks up at you suddenly, seriously. _Can’t answer._

                You blink at him. It didn’t make any sense. You momentarily forget that you’re not supposed to ask any questions.  You make the sign to indicate that you are about to state a hypothetical and then ask him. _You tell me…danger happen?_ You do the last sign in reverse, gesturing towards your body instead of away from it. _…to me?_

_If you tell me, will I be in danger?_

                He repeats the sign for danger and then moves his index finger in a circle twice. _You’re always in danger here._

You swallow the lump in your throat and immediately the vision of the mask comes to your mind. You don’t even need to say his name. Taro makes the sign for _K_ then _R_ in a vertical line down the side of his face. _Name? Say don’t. Name, think don’t._

You sit there for a moment and process what he said.

_Don’t say his name. Don’t even think it._

You nod for a moment before you lift up your hand and make the sign to show you understand him. You are still thinking about what he had said when you get back to your room. B and C are already in the living room, along with everyone else.

                “Finally,” B breathes. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

                “Sorry,” you apologize. You decide not to tell them about Taro’s hand. You would only get in trouble for asking a question that you shouldn’t have, anyway. It would only fuel Shayne’s dangerous speculations and put you at odds with B. No, you didn’t need to tell them anything. “Everything okay?”

                “Tomorrow, you are all going to have two interviews,” B explains. He immediately notices the alarm on everyone’s faces. “Now, now, calm down. This is simply a precaution to ensure that there is no conflict with the Resistance.”

                “Who?” Sadie asks.

                “Precisely,” B replies. “Right now, these are dangerous, tense times and they simply want to make sure there are no conflicting interests on board.”

                Shayne is the first one to say what you’re thinking. “Who is going to be conducting the interviews? Kylo Ren? Is he going to read our minds to make sure we’re telling the truth?”

                B sighs in exasperation. “I am sure Kylo Ren has more important things to do than to probe your mind for information that’s not there to begin with,” he says dryly. “No, they will probably send in some Storm Trooper lackey to do it.”

                “They were all given a full record of your affairs and histories before you came on board,” C says. “They know that you have probably never been in contact with the Resistance. Like B said, it’s just a precaution.” You look at B imploringly, but he purposely avoids your eyes.

                “And the second interview?” Ladson asks. “Is that simply to ensure that our answers don’t change from one interview to the second?”

                “My apologies,” B says. “I don’t believe I made myself clear. You shall be interviewed in the morning, but only the once. Then in the afternoon, General Hux himself will personally be interviewing the Tortutaru, so it would probably be better to work in groups of two. I’m thinking girls and boys?”

                “Fine by me,” you say, and Sadie shoots you a dirty look that you ignore. There was a time and place for everything, and flirting with Ladson in the middle of an assignment with General Hux was definitely not the right time or place.

                “Excellent,” C says. “Now, I know this may seem a bit stressful, but please, don’t let it be. As we’ve already emphasized, it’s just a precaution, nothing more.”

                “That makes us feel loads better,” Shayne says.

                “It’s fine,” Ladson snaps. Honestly, you have no idea how Shayne and Ladson are going to work together tomorrow. They seem to hate each other more and more with each passing day. Well, at least it’s obvious that Ladson can’t stand to be around Shayne. Shayne just seems mildly oblivious to it. “Like he said, it’s just a precaution. We don’t know anything about the Resistance or the war. Our records speak for themselves. We just need to be honest with them, show them we have nothing to hide, and we’ll be fine. It’s nothing to worry about.”

                “Exactly,” Sadie says, smiling pointedly at him. You roll your eyes and look towards B again, but he is purposely avoiding looking at you. Fantastic.

                That night, the six of you eat dinner together and keep your conversation light, focused on academics back at school. It seems like a lifetime ago that you were anywhere other than the Starkiller Base, but you don’t comment on it. You had only been here a few days, but it already felt like an eternity. C encourages you all to retire to your separate rooms early for reflection, and you pretend to do as he says, entering your room and shutting the door behind you. You wait until the coast is clear before you quietly sneak out of your room and knock on the door to B’s room.

                “I had a feeling it would be you,” B says, opening the door slightly.

                “Then tell me,” you whisper. “How much of my history did you give them?”

                He shakes his head. “Enough of it. Honestly, it’s just going to be some lackey asking the questions, as I said. They’re not going to know if you-”

                “-lie?” you cut him off. “Just tell me what records you sent them.”

                “Just your academic ones,” he replies. “Just tell them you were born there. They don’t have any way of knowing the truth. It doesn’t make a difference.”

                You hesitate. You want to argue more, but he has a point. “If I’m vague, they’ll think I’m hiding something,” you say at last.

                “Or they’ll just think you’re a scared, shy little girl,” he says. “Play it up. We’re all playing a role here.”

                “I thought I wasn’t playing a role,” you hiss at him. “I thought that was the point. Just to be the interpreter, right? I’m not supposed to be anything but a completely neutral entity.”

                “And you are,” he replies. “Which is why this whole interview thing doesn’t matter. You are neutral. You have nothing to do with the Resistance or the First Order.” He pauses. “If you had, I wouldn’t have let you come.”

                “Because you need unbiased parties.” It had always been sort of a mantra, keep the interpreter neutral so that he or she could not take sides in a dispute, but B had said more in that sentence than you realized. If he was looking for people to be neutral to the conflict, then whatever your assignment was directly pertained to it.

                “Stop that,” B whispers, as if sensing your thoughts. “Don’t think too much into this. Remember, the less you know the better.”

                “I know,” you whisper back. “Thanks.”

                “Six more months,” he says quietly. “You’re a smart girl. Keep yourself safe.” He pauses before he shuts the door. “And _don’t_ ask questions. Don’t tell them anything they don’t need to know. As far as they’re concerned, you’re just a sweet girl that likes languages and needed a steady job.”  

                “Good night,” you whisper quietly as you slip back to your room, making sure to shut the door as quietly as possible. He was right. There would be no way the Storm Trooper conducting the interview would know if you were lying or not. The best thing that you could do was just keep your answers as short and direct as possible.

                You lie down in your bed and lace your fingers over your stomach. “I’m just a sweet little girl who loves languages,” you whisper to the ceiling. “I don’t know anything.”

                At least one part of that was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only bet with my life, never with my money, but if you're a gambling sort of person, I think you can safely bet that Kylo Ren is going to show up in the next chapter...and that's when the fun begins! ;)
> 
> Also, I did my homework! According to the Star Wars Wiki, or Wookieepedia, "as of 17 ABY, there were 9,057 forms of sign language in the galaxy." That's a lot! I have absolutely no idea how many sign languages exist on earth, I couldn't find an exact number, but considering there is at least one sign language for each spoken language, there are probably thousands, not including regional dialects. But hey, it's a cool fun fact if you're trying to impress your friends with neat Star Wars trivia!


	5. Chapter 5

                You sit in a room, much like the one you had interpreted in every day for the past few days. You assume that they all probably looked more or less the same; the First Order surely couldn’t be bothered with aesthetics. Meeting rooms were meeting rooms. They were there to serve a purpose, and you highly doubted that the First Order was concerned with impressing anyone in a diplomatic sense. No, they had their soldiers and guns and advanced weaponry. If they wanted to impress anyone, they had muscle for that. Meeting rooms were probably of little to no importance to them.

                You are there quite a while, simply waiting, and you wonder if the Storm Trooper who was assigned to you got lost, or simply decided it wasn’t a meeting worth showing up for. B did say that this meeting was of little consequence, and so it made sense that the Storm Trooper would be running late. He probably decided to sleep in, or have a late breakfast, or chat with some people before he or she came in. You think it over. It made sense.

                Of course, on the other hand, it could also mean that they were taking a longer time reviewing your records before they came in, so they could better discern if you were lying. The thought scares you, but you immediately know that it is highly unlikely. They could simply bring your records with them if they wanted to fact-check you; no memorization required. Especially if these meetings were of no consequence, memorizing silly facts about a silly girl would be a gigantic waste of time.

                You are sitting facing the wall, the door off to your right. It suddenly slides open, and you expect to see a flash of white. Instead, you see a flash of black, and you know who it is before your eyes meet the black slit in that familiar mask. Immediately your heart jumps into your chest. _Don’t say his name. Don’t even think it._ That was what Taro warned you yesterday. And now? Now Kylo Ren was going to probe your mind to make you spill all of your secrets, even the ones you had no idea that you had.

                He sits down in the chair across from you, and you let out a heavy breath through your nostrils. You shrink a little under his intense gaze, forcing yourself to look at the mask but avoid staring directly into the eye slit. What kind of monster was under there? Did he have tentacles? Eight eyes? Wondering what he looked like was hardly the point, but if he was trying to probe your mind, it would probably be best to keep your thoughts distracted, wouldn’t it?

                “Name?” he asks. You give it.

                “Age?”

                “Twenty-six.”

                “Home planet?”

                You hesitate for a moment, and then state the name of the planet where you went to school. If he can read minds, he’ll know you’re lying. If he’s a good read of character, however, he might know you’re lying anyway. It was tough to tell.

                He pauses for a moment, settling back in his chair. “Do I frighten you?”

                Your eyes shoot up to the slit, and then look away. What was under there? “No.” You do what you can to make yourself look tall.

                “You’re not a very good liar.” _Shit._

“I just don’t think it’s fair that you can conceal yourself behind a mask while quizzing me about _my_ true intentions,” you say firmly. Yes, you had been warned many times to beware of Kylo Ren and his temper, but maybe he wouldn’t lash out at you if you were honest. You could only hope.

                He cocks his head to the side. “Would you like me to take it off?”

                You hesitate, but try not to let it show. Do you really want to know what’s under there? “That’s up to you. It makes no difference to me who you are.”

                “And who are you?” he asks, making no move to take off the mask. “Or who are you pretending to be?”

                “I’m an interpreter,” you tell him. “A linguist. I study languages and I help aid in the clear and concise trade of information between two parties.”

                “And how many languages do you know?” he asks. That stupid flat tone of voice through the helmet is starting to get on your nerves, but you try not to let it show.

                “Verbal or nonverbal?” you ask. He just stares you down through that unblinking slit and doesn’t answer. Honestly, you knew so many you could hardly keep track. You knew when someone else was talking or signing whether or not it was a language you knew, or could at least figure out. With so many languages abound, there was always some occasional overlap. You decide to pull out a number and hope it sounds confident enough. “Forty-seven, fluently.”

                He crosses his arms over his chest, almost as if he doesn’t believe you. “And how exactly would it benefit you to know so many languages?”

                “It just interests me,” you say quietly, but there is an edge to your voice. “People interest me. Cultures interest me. It’s just _interesting_.”

                “And how did you get to be fluent in all of these languages?” he asks. “Considering the primary language of that planet is Basic, I can’t imagine that you would have much experience with other languages there.”

                Your eyes widen ever so slightly, but you try not to let it show. “Rigorous study,” you tell him. “And we do have a trading post. All sorts of people do come round, now and again. It’s a good way to pick up new languages and assess your skills.”

                “A small one,” he says, as if he’s familiar with it. You can’t imagine that he would be. “But it’s not a major trading hub. Anyone savvy enough to venture there would know at least enough Basic to secure a trade.” You stare him down. “If anything, knowing so many languages could only prove beneficial for survival. Learning the language and customs of another planet can make it easy to disappear from one place and blend in someplace else.”

                “There is peace there,” you say firmly as possible. “There would be no reason for me to run away. My dedication to my craft is hardly indicative of-“

                “Tell me the truth.” His fist slams on the table, and you flinch involuntarily. You stare him down. He is asking you for information, and for all you know, if you don’t tell him, he probably has very painful means of taking it.

                “Fine,” you say, giving him the name of a planet with a much larger trading hub, notorious for back-alley trades and shady dealings. “I was born there. My mother died when I was very young. My father would always take me with him wherever he went, and so I had the opportunity to meet many people and learn a great many languages early on. My father was fond of drink and ebla and he had quite a temper. One day he didn’t have enough money and so when I was not yet twelve, he sold me to an eclectic trading crew that dabbled in a bit of everything, mostly human cargo. One day, I found my language skills proved useful when I overheard that they were about to be double-crossed in a trade. They kept me on their ship as an interpreter, and there I remained for years until we landed on the planet that housed my academia. The trading crew had stumbled upon a rare book that the school wanted, and while I was negotiating the deal, the man brokering the trade was impressed with my knowledge and quizzed me in over a dozen languages. He told me he was looking for a language tutor for his daughter, Sadie, to give her more worldly experience. I agreed only under the condition that I would not be a slave and that I could enroll in school with her. He was a very kind man, and incredibly wealthy. He paid a high price for both me and the book, and I have stayed close to his family ever since.”

                He stares you down, but you stare right back. That was it. That was the truth. You had nothing to hide. There was no reason for him to go into your head now, and you suspect he knew that. If he did, the only thing he would find there were memories that you didn’t care to dwell upon. As far as you were concerned, your life began when you enrolled in school and started tutoring Sadie. Both she and her family had never treated you as anything other than a friend, and you were grateful for an environment where your language skills could be used in a positive way. The only other person there that could confirm the story was B. He had immediately picked up on your advanced language skills in class, and you had reluctantly confided in him the truth of your origins. He had then taken on somewhat of a mentor role towards you, and although you didn’t particularly feel the need for one, his friendliness towards you was appreciated. Plus, he also gave you work, and work gave you money, which was always a nice incentive. Sadie’s father always offered, but you could never take anything from him. He had bought your freedom and gave your future a sense of safety and certainty. That in itself was something you would never be able to repay.

                “Is that the truth?” he asks. He had been sitting in the chair, arms crossed over his chest, almost slouching, as he listened to your story. Now he sat up and put his elbows on the table as he leaned forward.

                “Yes,” you reply, a little uncertainly. Of course it had been the truth, did he really expect you to rehearse such an unsavory story? “Sadie can confirm it, although her father never did want me to tell her how he had acquired me. He wanted her to have the experience of languages and cultures without their direct interaction, should she ever need it. He knows how life in the galaxy can be.”

                He is silent for a long while as you just sit there and wait. His glare is not nearly as ominous or oppressive as it was when he had first walked in, but it could simply have been because you were getting used to it. His expression behind the mask, however, was as unreadable as ever.

                “Do you miss your father?” he asks, and the question takes you aback. You honestly chose not to think about your father as often as possible, not that that was difficult to do. He was part of a life that you no longer wished to recognize as your own.  

                “No,” you reply curtly.

                “Do you hate him?” _What?_

                “My father is most likely dead,” you reply. “It never does well to dwell upon grudges that we have no chance of remedying.”

                “Do you think he was an honorable man?”

 _Seriously, what are these questions?_ you ask yourself. _What could he possibly hope to gain by asking me this?_

You shake your head. “The man sold his daughter for drink. I would not say he was.”

                “Would you say that you are an honorable person?” he asks. You can tell by the way he leans forward that he is waiting for your answer. Was that his real question all along?

                You hesitate before you give it. “I am neither honorable nor dishonorable,” you tell him. “I am an interpreter. I do not make decisions. I interpret words. I carry messages, but I am not responsible for who says or does what with the information I provide, as long as that message does not stray from the initial utterance. It doesn’t matter if it’s right or wrong, it’s not my decision. The consequences of someone else’s words do not rest on my conscience.”

                He seems to consider this for a moment. “Your reasoning is either very smart or incredibly stupid,” he says. He gets up suddenly, so fast he almost knocks the chair over, as he turns and strides out of the room. You stare after him for a moment, not quite sure what to do or say. But as the doors slide shut behind him, you realize there’s not much you can do with either. He’s gone.

                You let out a deep breath that you didn’t realize you were holding in and bury your face in your hands. That had been very, very intense, and you couldn’t believe you had told him as much as you had. Had he compelled the truth from you? You shake your head, as if to confirm this to yourself. No, it didn’t feel like he had used any sort of mind tricks on you, aside from the typical intimidation tactics that you could plainly see. You stand up slowly and make your way towards the door. You carefully peep out into the hallway, but he’s already gone.

                Slowly you make your way down to the cafeteria, where Sadie, Ladson, and Shayne are already eating. You grab food as quickly as you can and sit down to join them. “You were in there a while,” Shayne says. It’s probably not smart to talk about this in front of other Storm Troopers, but you can’t hold yourself back right now.

                “Who did you get for your interview?” you ask.

                “Just someone in a white helmet,” Sadie says, and the rest of them nod their heads. “Why? Who did _you_ get?”

                “Just, someone in a white helmet,” you say nonchalantly. “I know our times were staggered. I wasn’t sure if it was one person doing all of our interviews or what.”

                “I don’t know,” Ladson shrugs. “We were all in and out within ten minutes. What took you so long? What were you telling them?”

                You hesitate for a moment, trying to think up a good excuse. “My guy got there really, really late,” you say. It’s not all that far from the truth. “I was waiting a really long time before they guy came in, then he asked me a few questions and then left really suddenly. It was all kind of weird.”

                “Yeah, well, it can’t be any worse than what we’ll have to do later,” Shayne sighs. “Interpreting for the Tortutaru and General Hux? I’m surprised B and C didn’t just take this one.”

                “They could use a day off,” Ladson says. “And besides, our skills are more than good enough for the task at hand.”

                “Precisely,” Sadie says. It never dawned on you before just how annoying it was to listen to her agree with everything Ladson says. She must have caught the look on your face as she picks up her hands and asks you if something’s wrong. You raise your hands to gesture that you’re fine, and continue eating your food. First the ominous stare, and now Kylo Ren was singling you out to learn your history firsthand. Why was he singling you out, specifically? What could be the reason for it? You didn’t know anything.

 

                Sadie’s partner is nice enough, but he likes to pepper his signs with a lot of word play and jokes and off the cuff remarks. Sadie is quick to laugh at his jokes, but you struggle to keep up, and are silently thankful that Taro is taciturn by comparison. Most of his humor and jokes go straight over your head, unfortunately. You always struggled to understand jokes in other languages, but this was hardly a surprise, considering you struggled to understand jokes in Basic. Sometimes the humor in a joke lied in the way he signed something, the way he would invert his wrist slightly to misproduce the sign intentionally. Sadie would laugh as if she understood, but whatever was funny about it lay past the point of your comprehension. Still, you took your cues from her, and you knew enough to smile so that it touched your eyes and laugh along. You had no idea if Sadie understood the jokes or if she was just better at interpreting the right cues for when to laugh, but either way, you let her interpret this meeting.

                There was a table in the center of the room so that each party could sit on either side, and one chair was pulled up to the side of the table for the interpreter. There were a row of chairs along the wall to the right, behind where Sadie was sitting, and so you took one close to her, so you would be almost right behind her in case she needed you. You knew she wouldn’t, but the back-up was appreciated anyway, especially in terms of emotional support. You had no idea what to expect of General Hux. Fortunately for you, he was extremely cordial.

                “Ladies,” he says as he walks into the room. You both stand, although her Tortutaru did not. You didn’t know his name; he just distinguished himself by a letter on his shoulder. “I’m General Hux, commander of the Starkiller Base.”

                “It’s so nice to meet you,” Sadie says, and she sounds as if she’s almost gushing. If B was really looking for someone to play the role of the innocent, nervous girl, he should have picked Sadie. She was practically bred for it. You were far too cynical to be anything but.

                “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” he says, bowing slightly as he takes her hand and raises it to his lips. She giggles, and it’s everything you can do not to vomit in your mouth; the whole scene looks way too forced. You knew it, and you were sure Sadie knew it too, but it was almost mandatory that you play along.

                “I’m Sadie,” she replies. She gestures towards you. “And I believe you’ve already met-“

                General Hux says your name, and you try not to act too surprised. You had given your name to Kylo Ren, but General Hux was quite a distance away, and you were sure that he hadn’t heard you, which could only mean that your name had come up in conversation. It was probably only in passing, but after Kylo Ren’s visit earlier, you couldn’t help but wonder.

                “You’re good with names,” Sadie says as she sits down. He takes a seat down in his designated chair, and you are silently thankful he didn’t come over and kiss your hand as well as you take a seat of your own. He simply smiles good-naturedly at her as he starts the meeting.

                It’s interesting to see Sadie interpret. During class assignments, your feedback, more often than not, was that you always seemed emotionless, like a drone, constantly processing and churning away. That’s what it felt like to you, so it wasn’t really that bizarre to imagine that that’s what you looked like on the outside as well. Sadie was a whole different story. She made interpreting look almost effortless. Her eyes shined and she smiled while she was working. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but it looked like she was genuinely interested in what other people had to say, and sought to carry on that interest to the third party. Even when you could tell she was concentrating, she would bite her lip in a way that could only be described as endearing.

                It didn’t help that she was ridiculously beautiful. You would describe your own looks as gamine at best, but Sadie had long dark hair that she constantly wore in a single braid down her back. Her skin was darker than yours, and she had big brown eyes that stood in stark contrast to your own lackluster features. General Hux noticed it too, you could tell by the way he would sneak glances at her whenever she had turned to face the Tortutaru. You weren’t disgusted with him for looking; she attracted a lot of attention from both girls and boys alike, and she knew how to use it, but it still felt inappropriate. You still felt protective of her, and every time he glanced at her and did that cocky little half-smile of his, it made your stomach churn.

                The meeting didn’t take very long at all. He had simply asked about the Tortutaru’s history, which was not an expansive affair by any means, considering he had never really travelled outside his home planet aside from a few minor occasions. As he gets up to leave the room, Taro comes in, and Sadie and you switch seats. General Hux forces a tight smile in your direction, and you quickly force yourself to return it before he glances away. You can immediately tell he liked Sadie better, but that didn’t bother you in the slightest.

                _Truth be told, I don’t really like you much either, pal,_ you say in your head. You turn to Taro and nod to him confidently, assuring both him and yourself that you are not intimidated by General Hux in any way.

                “Now then-“ General Hux starts, but he is interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in.” There is a pause as the door opens, and Captain Phasma walks in, dressed in her signature silver armor. You smile up at her, politely, but she does not seem to take any notice of you.

                “Sir, your presence is requested. I’m told it’s important.”

                “It always is,” General Hux replies sarcastically. He looks at you then forces another smile at Sadie before he gets up and leaves the room. “I’ll return shortly.”

                Taro looks at Sadie and makes the sign for _what?_

                Sadie blinks at him in confusion, and you burst out laughing. You snap your first two fingers against your palm with both hands so loudly that there is a resounding smack as you hold your hands up in her direction. _HA._

                “What?” Sadie asks out loud, repeating the sign on her hands.

                Taro taps under his eye and you spin around to face her, hanging loosely over the side of your chair to look at her. “The way he was looking at you,” you murmur.

                “Oh,” she sighs. “That.” She brushes her bangs out of her face. “He’s kind of creepy.” She realizes that she had stopped signing, and points to the door where General Hux had just left and makes a face, sticking out her tongue.

                Taro taps his first two fingers repeatedly against his palm, lightly echoing the motion you had recently made to show silent, gentle laughter. He turns towards you and makes the sign for _interview_ followed by the sign for _good_. He tilts his head to the side to indicate a question.

                You hesitate. You want to tell him about Kylo Ren, but you don’t know if that would be appropriate. You don’t really want to talk to B about it, as you’re concerned what he will say if he knew you had accidentally attracted negative attention to yourself, but at the same time, Taro was more or less your client. It wouldn’t really be appropriate to talk to him either. Telling any of the others seemed like an unnecessary risk to take, and you didn’t want to get them caught up in it, especially not Sadie. So was there no one on this base that you could actually talk to? Somehow, that seemed like an even worse position to be in. Apparently you had somehow captured the special attention of the most dangerous, powerful man on this base, and you were completely and utterly alone.

                Taro seems to sense something in your hesitance, but he doesn’t have time to question you further. The door slides open, and to your absolute horror, Kylo Ren walks in. The air in the room immediately changes. Behind you, you can almost _hear_ Sadie making herself smaller as Taro sits up a bit straighter, eying Kylo Ren with weary concern. You immediately spin around in your chair and sneak a look at Taro out of the corner of your eye, silently waiting to take any direction from him.

                Kylo Ren’s gaze sweeps the room for a minute before he sits down in the chair that General Hux had previously occupied. He doesn’t look at you at all, and for once, you’re grateful for that. Taro turns towards you so suddenly that you can almost hear his neck snap as he tells you to sit in the chair next to Sadie. You immediately climb out of your chair and follow his instructions as fast as possible, resisting the urge to grab Sadie’s arm for support.

                Neither of them look at you. Instead, they seemed to have locked gazes and were communicating purely by thought. The air in the room felt charged with electricity, and you couldn’t tell if it was because the Force was at play, or if it was because you were watching the mental energy of two powerful entities clash against one another. They both seemed to be intensely focused, especially Kylo Ren. His hands were gripping the side of the chair tightly with each gloved hand, whereas Taro’s posture suggested a stern, yet calmer, authority.

                Your attention is tugged away from them by Sadie, who glances at Kylo Ren with her eyes and then makes the sign for _scary._

                You shake your head and lower your hands to make your gestures as hard to see as possible, so as to not call any attention to yourself. You shake your head and spell out the word _mask_ and then make the sign for _coward_.

                She glances back at them and then back to you, making a face of confusion as she taps the side of her head twice with one finger. You just shrug, keeping your shoulders as close to your body as possible. You don’t have the faintest idea what they’re talking about. You highly doubt Kylo Ren speaks Tortutarune, so you could only imagine that they were trying to communicate in its rawest form: with mental pictures, with emotion, with pure energy. It was nerve-wracking. You didn’t need to see his face through the mask; the body posture alone suggested frustration. Whatever Kylo Ren wanted, Taro wasn’t giving it to him, or at least, not easily. Over time, Taro’s pose looks weaker as he leans back in his chair, and you can't tell whether he is struggling to maintain his mental energy or if he is in actual pain. Kylo Ren is sitting so far forward on the chair now that he almost may not have been really been seated at all, his hands out by his sides with his palms open, as if he was channeling.

                Suddenly, Taro turns and signs something to you. It’s a short phrase, a simple one, but you blink and make the sign for _again._ In truth, you were so caught up and focused on trying to see the mental energy expended between them as a tangible, physical thing that you had totally missed what he had signed. He signs it again, but you still don’t understand as you thrust your outstretched fingers into the palm of your opposite hand. _Again._ He signs it again, patiently, just a few simple signs, but for some reason it’s not working its way into your brain as a coherent thought.

                “What’s he saying?” Kylo Ren demands. You glance at him for a brief moment and look back to Taro, who repeats the phrase.

                “I, uh,” you stammer. You can feel Kylo Ren growing impatient, but you don’t understand what Taro is trying to say, you just don’t. The words are simple enough. You turn to Sadie in a panic, your eyes wide and desperate. _Help me. What is he saying?_

Sadie sits forward a bit in her chair and gestures with her hand for Taro to sign it again. He does so and she bites her lip before looking at you and then back to Kylo Ren. “I think I have it right,” she whispers as she looks at you nervously.

                “What?” Kylo Ren demands. He gets to his feet, and you immediately thrust your arm out in front of Sadie in a reflexive, defensive gesture, ready to throw yourself between them if he were to approach.

                She glances at him nervously, then back at you. But she’s looking at you, really looking, as if seeing you for the first time. “He says you’re Force-sensitive,” she tells you quietly.

                You blink at her.

                Kylo Ren storms out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, sorry I got this chapter out to you guys a little later than usual today! I honestly have to thank all of you for your lovely comments and your support. I was initially hesitant to write a story from this perspective, as I didn't think anyone would be all that interested (I can seriously talk about interpreting and sign language all day and night, but that doesn't mean everyone wants to listen!) But it seems a lot of people are picking up on my passion in this story, and I'm humbled that I can convey that so well, and I can only hope it calls out to your underlying passions as well! So again, an enormous thank you to everyone for all of your lovely comments and positive feedback, it honestly makes this story so much more enjoyable to write!! <3 Until tomorrow, cheers!!


	6. Chapter 6

                “What does that mean?” you ask when you are sure that Kylo Ren has left the room. You’re talking, not signing, and you quickly move your hands to repeat the question. “Force-sensitive? What does that mean? That I’m in danger? Tell me.”

                Taro shakes his head.

                “You need to tell me,” you yell at him. You can’t sign right now; your hands are trembling. Instead, Sadie signs for you, her face parallel to the floor, letting your facial gestures display all the emotion he needs. “You’re the one that outed me. You need to tell me if I’m in danger.” Sadie is so nervous, she uses the physical sign for _out_ like _outside_ but Taro seems to understand what you’re trying to say nonetheless. Either that, or he can see you yelling. It’s not hard to figure out. Words don’t really matter right now, especially when you’re sure your emotions are pulsing out of you like a heat wave.

                He emits a high-pitched whine unlike anything you had ever heard before in your entire life. It turns your blood cold, and it’s such a soft, sad sound that you aren’t sure how to react to it. Sadie glances at you uncertainly, fear shining in her eyes, but there’s nothing much she can do either.

                Taro picks up his hands, and you watch him silently. _Don’t tell anyone about this. Not even B. I will do the best I can to keep you safe._

                He gets up and walks over to you, putting his hand on your head in the same manner that he had done when you had first met him. Sadie looks taken aback, and you still aren’t quite sure how to react to it. He doesn’t linger, and he doesn’t say anything more as he turns and leaves the room without another word.

                “I’m Force-sensitive?” you ask, turning to Sadie. “That can’t be right. I can’t be, can I?”

                “I wouldn’t know,” Sadie replies softly.

                “I mean, what do I do now?” you breathe out. “Do you think they’re going to kill me?”

                “I don’t think so.” Sadie shakes her head. “B would never let that happen, although…” She hesitates, and you urge her on. “Have you been paying attention? To what the meetings have been about?”

                “Not really,” you confess. “I kind of just zone out most of the time. I figured it was for the best, anyway.”

                “They ask a lot of really weird questions,” she says. “Asking them how much training they had, if they’re a good shot, asking them to name times when they’ve had incredible strokes of luck-”

                “So what?” you ask. “They’re just making small talk. What does being lucky have to do with anything?”

                Sadie bites her lip. “I’ve been talking to Shayne-” You groan aloud. “Apparently people who are Force-sensitive have been known to be luckier than others, and naturally good with a Blaster. They’re also good at reading people, and have other psychic gifts.”

                “Psychic gifts?” you echo. “I’m good with languages, but that doesn’t mean I’m good at reading people. I mean, I’m decent at reading body language, but-”

                “Well, if you’re Force-sensitive, it means that you _can_ be trained in the Force,” she explains. “Like, everyone has the Force, is how it was explained to me, but some people are better at harnessing its potential than others. If you’re sensitive to it, then it means that you _can_ harness it, with training.”

                You shake your head. “I don’t want to be trained.”

                “I don’t think they would train you,” Sadie admits quietly. “You know what he said the other night. They may get scared that you’re going to use the Force against them and… _put you down_.”

                You shake your head. You can’t even think about it. The notion is too absurd. “They wouldn’t kill me,” you tell her. “I mean, I can’t do anything. I don’t know _how_ to do anything.”

                “Maybe you’re doing something without realizing it?” Sadie asks. “I mean, you did say Kylo Ren walked straight over to you as soon as you met him. Maybe you were, like, projecting your thoughts without even realizing it.”

                You blink at her. Could you have been? Could that also have explained why Kylo Ren was the one who did your interview earlier today? Could he have sensed that you were Force-sensitive? Were Force-sensitive people sensitive to others who were Force-sensitive? _Try saying that five times fast._

                “If I am in so much danger, why did Taro out me so quickly?” you ask her. “If he knew it would kill me?”

                “Maybe he didn’t have a choice,” Sadie says. “I mean, you saw them. They were both, like, straining or something. Maybe they were having some sort of epic mind battle and Kylo Ren got the better of him. Maybe he just let it slip.”

                You shake your head. You wanted to talk to Taro about this more, but would he talk to you? Or would he just tell you that the less you knew the better? Right now it seemed that your ignorance was what had gotten you into this mess in the first place. If you had known you were Force-sensitive back at school, you never would have come here, B’s urging be damned. “What do I do?” you ask after a solid minute has passed.

                “Nothing,” she replies firmly. “You heard him. We shouldn’t tell anyone about this. Not even B.”

                “Well,” you sigh. “If I suddenly go missing, please do go ahead and tell B what happened to me. I’ll probably be dead by then, but at least then he’ll know to dispose of my things.”

                She nods, but doesn’t refute what you say. It doesn’t make you feel any better, but fortunately it also doesn’t make you feel any worse at the moment. “We should get back.” She stands up and holds a hand out for you. You take it and follow her out into the hallway as you walk in silence back to your apartment.

 

                At dinner that night, at B’s prompting, Sadie is all smiles and giggles as she tells them about how “charming” General Hux was, kissing her hand and acting like a “proper gentleman.” She looks at Ladson while she says this, and although you’re pretty sure she’s trying to make him jealous, you know it’s an act to take the attention off you. Hell, maybe it’s both for all you know. Either way, the effect on B is immediate: he’s sighing and shaking his head, rubbing his forehead with one hand in an exasperated manner, probably wishing he had never brought Sadie on board in the first place. Unlike most of the things that seemed to be happening around here, that one actually _was_ your fault. She had been your best friend, and her father had connections, so when you told her that B was looking for more recruits to join the assignment, and she had responded with enthusiasm, there was no real way of denying her a spot on the team. Besides, she may have been a bit too peppy for B’s tastes, but she was a skilled interpreter, there was no denying that.

                “And everything went well earlier today?” B asks, glancing over at you.

                You just nod, pretending to be bored by the whole affair. “Yeah, they didn’t ask too much.” You keep your tone casual, and B looks away. He doesn’t bring it up again.

                You tuck yourself into bed early that night. You thought a piping hot shower would do you some good, but it did the opposite. You felt languid, numb, as if all you had spent the entire day swimming laps in a frozen pool, and all of your muscles were now heavy and sore. So you were Force-sensitive, what did that mean? And how did Taro know? Was it part of his whole telepathy thing? Could he see into your mind?

                It’s late when you hear a quiet knock on your door, so quiet that you can barely be sure you heard it. You pause, sitting up in bed, when you hear it again. At first you think it’s coming from the living room, but it’s not. It’s coming from the door leading to the outside corridor. _Who could possibly-?_

You slip out of bed, dressed only in drawstring boy shorts and a tank top, as you open the door, blinking in the unrelenting synthetic hallway lights that reminded you of a hospital corridor. It didn’t take more than a split second for your eyes to sweep over the black shape in your doorway and register that it was Kylo Ren standing in front of you. Your whole body freezes, and it suddenly feels like your feet had turned into blocks of cement. You can’t move.

                “Can I come in?” he asks through his mask, and you obediently shuffle a few feet backwards without turning your back to him. You can’t quite get your face under control. Your eyes must be huge, especially in the dim light, and your mouth is slightly ajar. Your teeth snap together with a click and you swallow the lump in your throat as he comes in and shuts the door behind him. The lights overhead suddenly flicker on even though no one had touched them, but you look and see that the switch is now upright in the _on_ position somehow.

                You rub at your left eye, blinking at him as your eyes adjust to the light, trying not to show weakness. But here he was, standing in your room, while you were practically naked in front of him, half-asleep. The only way you could be more vulnerable was if you were completely naked, and, okay, those were not thoughts that you needed to be having when Kylo Ren was probably standing there reading your mind.

                Except he wasn’t, because Kylo Ren was standing there, almost shuffling from foot to foot, looking extremely uncomfortable. “Why are you here?” you ask quietly. “Have you come to kill me?”

                He chuckles through the mask, an awkward, distorted sound. It honestly sounds more threatening than anything. “I came to talk.”

                “If you came to talk, will you please take off that mask?” you ask quickly. It doesn’t matter if he has tentacles or a dozen eyes for all you care, you can’t stand that dreadful tinny distortion any more. You’re almost surprised when he silently complies with your request, taking off his helmet and letting it drop to the floor with a reverberating _thud._ He moves a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face, and you make a noise in the back of your throat that almost sounded like you were choking on the air you were breathing. He raises an eyebrow, and you have nothing to say in your defense.

                He was attractive. Oh no, he was _very_ attractive. His face was framed by waves of dark raven hair. He had dark eyes, a sharp nose, and full lips that he pulled back into a smirk as you studied his face. _Oh no, don’t do that._

                You realize you have to say something. He’s clearly enjoying your awkwardness, but the moment had stretched on for far too long and you have nothing to say. “You don’t have tentacles.”

                Well, at least that was something.

                His lips part and he shows teeth when he smiles. He looks a lot younger than you would have imagined, almost boyish, in this light. You think back to how threatening he had seemed when you first encountered him. Idly, you wonder how many people had seen him without his mask on. Probably not many, considering it ruined the entire illusion. There would be no way you could take him seriously with his mask on anymore… _probably._

                “Do you see many people with tentacles where you’re from?” he asks, not altogether unkindly.

                “You never know,” you reply softly. “So why are you here, Kylo Ren?”

                “Kylo Ren,” he repeats his name, using your inflection, and you can’t help but think that he’s taunting you.

                “I don’t know the proper way to address you,” you say, trying to keep your cool. “Kylo Ren. I don’t know if it’s a name or a title. What do most people call you?”

                “Ren.”

                “Then I shall call you Kylo,” you say with finality. He raises an eyebrow again.

                “May I ask why?”

                “Because other people here call you Ren,” you tell him firmly. “And you look down on them. You control them. But you don’t control me.”

                He smiles at you as if you offered him a challenge, and you don’t like it one bit. The smirk before, now _that_ was sexy. This smile was intimidating, and you can feel icy fingers tickling your spine as he speaks. “I control everything here.”

                “Not me,” you say, although your voice is barely above a whisper.

                “It seems not,” he says, and his gaze suddenly hardens. “You don’t know what you are, do you? What you’re doing?”

                “If this has to do with the Force, I think you’re mistaken,” you tell him. “Taro made a mistake. I am not Force-anything.”

                “Really?” he asks. “Then why can’t I get into your mind?”

                You blink at him. _So he had tried to get in…? But when?_ “When did you figure this out?”

                He smirks triumphantly, and to be honest, he looks a bit cocky. “When I saw you on your first day here. I saw the way you were watching me. You could sense it too.”

                “I was just trying to figure out what was under the mask,” you tell him. “That’s all. I wasn’t _watching_ you.”

                “I couldn’t get in your mind when I was with you earlier,” he says. “And I can’t get into your mind right now.”

                “Don’t,” you say immediately. You’re not quite sure what you’re telling him to not do, but it will hopefully shut down whatever he’s thinking. “I’ll scream.”

                “And I’ll crush your windpipe as soon as you open your mouth.” His voice is low, and you can tell by the look in his eyes that he means it.

                You stare him down, trying not to seem as scared as you feel. “So what are you going to do with me, then? If I am Force-sensitive?”

                He stands up a little straighter, and the cocky Kylo Ren is back. “I’m not going to tell anyone. I’ll keep this a secret, just between us.”

                “A secret?” You pause, considering this. “Are you expecting gratitude or favors?” He makes a soft hum of appreciation in the back of his throat, as if he is considering this. “I have nothing to offer you,” you say, spreading your arms. “I have nothing you want. You can have my gratitude, but I doubt you want it, if this is as big of a secret as everyone’s making it out to be.”

                “You’re only here for six months,” he says quietly. “And it might please you to know that I _don’t_ think that you are consciously doing it. Untrained, you are not a danger to anyone, let alone the First Order. When you are done here, go back to school. Don’t leave the planet. You should be safe there.”

                You feel like he is warning you, protecting you, but you can’t understand why. “Why are you being nice to me?” you ask cautiously. You had heard rumors about his violent temper, that he was a monster, but this was not in line with what you expected at all. He was being civil. Hell, aside from that little threat of his earlier, he was being downright _pleasant_.

                “Is that what this is?” he muses, as if he’s not sure himself. He pulls at his bottom lip idly with his thumb, and it’s extremely distracting. He catches you looking.  He lowers his arm slowly as a smile spreads across his face. It reaches his eyes.

                “So am I really blocking you from reading my thoughts?” you ask nervously.

                “Consciously or not,” he replies. “I can’t get in.”

                You shake your head. “You’re not going to find anything in there you’d want to see, anyway. I’ve spent the last few years at school sitting in classrooms and pouring over languages only used in not even a tenth of a fraction of the galaxy. It would bore you.”

                “Perhaps,” he says. “But I want you to let me see anyway.”

                You blink at him, confused. “I thought you said you couldn’t get in.”

                “I want you to _let_ me in,” he says.

                “Okay, how can I do that when I don’t even know how I’m keeping you out?” you ask.

                He shakes his head. “This is what I want. In exchange for keeping your secret, I want you to let me in.”

                You frown at him. “Again, I must ask, how?”

                He takes a few steps towards you until his boots are almost touching your bare toes. He reaches forward and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You flinch, at first, but quickly get yourself under control. His face is only a few inches from yours, and you can tell by the way that he’s biting his bottom lip that he almost looks nervous, as if you might swat him away at any second. He strokes your cheek gently with the backs of his fingers as he pulls away, and idly you wonder if he’s trying to get into your mind right then.

                You desperately hope not.

                “Will it hurt?” you ask quietly, desperate to say something, anything, to break the silence.

                “It may,” he replies in a low, husky voice. Fuck, the way he had said it sounded downright _sexy_ , as if he was implying something else entirely.

                “Then go for it,” you breathe. You shut your eyes and let out the breath that you didn’t realize you had been holding in. When you hear him chuckle and step away from you, you open your eyes, confused.

                “Not tonight,” he says as he picks up his helmet.

                “Not tonight?” you repeat uncertainly. “Then when?”

                “I’ll be in touch,” he says as he slides his helmet over his head. You stare at him through the narrow slit, trying to make out his expression, but you can’t. The mask is concealing everything. He turns around and walks out, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, shaken and dumbfounded. The tender skin on your cheek still tingles where he touched you.

                _So…_

You just stand there, trying to collect your thoughts. So, first, Kylo Ren was here, in your room, without his mask. Second, he was attractive. More than attractive, he was hot, and that was extremely distracting from the gravity of your present situation. Third, Kylo was bartering your safety in exchange for getting into your head, although what he would find in there, or hoped to find in there, you didn’t know. Was it simply the lure of a challenge, or was it something else entirely?

                Did all of that really just happen? It didn’t seem real. Cautiously, you reach up and touch your cheek. Yeah, he had been here all right. But what really puzzled you was how he had acted towards you. B had painted him as this hostile monster, like a hound straining on his leash, snapping at everyone and everything in sight, but just now he had seemed – you touch your cheek again – gentle.

                You shake your head. This is ridiculous. You walk over to the light switch and turn it off quickly before hurrying back into bed and pulling the covers over you. Kylo Ren wanted something that you had, and he was going to take it by brute force. It was going to be painful, and horrifying, and you would probably have scars that you could show your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren, if you lived to tell the tale. You cross your arms over your chest and pout in the darkness.

                The soft, tender way he had said, “ _It may_ ” comes back to you, and suddenly it seems laced with insinuations and hidden promises. You blush at your own wayward thoughts and roll over onto your stomach, pulling the pillow over your head as if to drown out the noise of your own thoughts.

                Nope. Torture. He was going to torture you and it was going to be painful and brutal. He would probably do something terrible and twisted, like slamming your fingers in a drawer or throwing you out an airlock. You focus on this and the dozens of other ways he could torment you. For some reason, it’s oddly comforting, and these are the thoughts that chase you away from the reality of your situation and into your dreams.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Canon-Typical Violence Ahead

                The next day you are sitting at dinner, twirling noodles with your fork over and over again, not really eating. Shayne was a fantastic cook, you had to give credit where it was due, but you just couldn’t eat. You were still too shaken by last night’s encounter with Kylo Ren. Unfortunately, you hadn’t had any meetings with Taro that day which put you at a standstill in your quest for answers, but at least you would see him tomorrow. You doubted you would feel any better until you could actually talk to someone about what was going on.

                “Are you doing okay?” Ladson asks, looking across the table at you. “You’ve seemed out of it all day.” Sadie looks up at you and makes eye contact, but says nothing.

                “I think it’s just the stale of the air of the base,” you say. “I don’t know, it feels like I haven’t seen the sun shine since, I don’t know when.”

                “I know what you mean,” Shayne says. “Being inside all day, every day? I feel like it can make some people go crazy.”

                B and C exchange a look, something that the rest of you pick up on immediately. “What is it?” Sadie asks.

                “Let’s just say we had an interesting morning,” B says, and C nearly spits out his food snickering.

                “Okay, now you have to tell us,” you say quickly as C wipes noodle sauce off his chin. You had to give it to them, although it was unconsciously done, it was a fantastic way to distract you from Kylo Ren.

                “It’s about Kylo Ren,” C says quickly as he dabs at his face with a napkin. Your shoulders slump, but fortunately, no one is looking in your direction.

                Considering B was someone who was easily stressed, the moments where he truly broke down in laughter were few and far between. “Will you just tell us what happened?” Sadie asks, her voice tainted by the fits of giggles that had by now proven to be contagious.

                “He was in a mood all morning,” C tells you. “Hardly anything unusual there, right? So we’re going about our business, right, and General Hux is saying-” he gestures with his hand. “-something, and then he gets up-”

                “Kylo Ren gets up,” B repeats, covering his mouth with his wrist to try to stop himself from interrupting.

                “And he pulls out this lightsaber,” C says. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It looked like a big red glowing sword, except it was crackling and hissing like it had a mind of its own.”

                “And then he just walks to the back of the room-” B starts.

                “So he walks to the back of the room,” C says, holding his breath for effect. “And then he just starts _hitting_ things, everything, the console. It’s _billowing_ smoke, and Hux is just sitting there _talking_ like _nothing_ is going on _right behind him_ and Kylo Ren is just screaming, and he’s angry and he is just smashing the heck out of this control panel, and Hux just tells B to carry on, acting like Kylo Ren is just-”

                “-like he’s just a toddler throwing a fit,” B says.

                “And I’m watching him,” C says. “And he’s standing there, right? ‘Saber in hand and his shoulders just _heaving_ -” he mimics his pose. “-and then he just sits right down again and he carries on like nothing had happened.”

                You laugh, but it sounds all wrong. Your voice is too high-pitched, but in the general storm of laughter, no one seems to notice how awkward and uncomfortable you are, not even Sadie. You should be thankful for that, but in the back of your mind, there are alarm bells ringing like sirens. Looking back, his attitude towards you had been almost downright _flirtatious,_ and now you hear that less than twelve hours later, he had pitched a fit and destroyed an innocent piece of machinery. Was it you? Was it something you had said?

                “What set him off?” you ask. “Was it something Hux said?” Sadie looks at you like she knows what you’re thinking, but she can’t possibly know. Hell, even Kylo Ren himself didn’t know what you were thinking. Your thoughts were a mystery to everyone. Overnight, you had become an enigma.

                “That was the thing,” C continues. “What they were all discussing was just dry routine. Whatever he was so pissy about, I don’t think it had to do with that meeting.”

                You bite your lip nervously. “Does he happen to go to those sorts of meetings often?”

                “Well, I mean, I wouldn’t say often,” C says. “But he does attend-”

                B taps his elbow to get him to stop talking. He is looking at you with the most peculiar expression on his face. It puts you on edge immediately. “Why the sudden interest?”

                “Interest?” you blink at him and try your best to look neutral. “I thought I was just making small talk.”

                He narrows his eyes at you, and you are aware that _all_ eyes are on you. What do they expect you to say though, honestly? They don’t know anything. They don’t know that he was in your room last night, and truth be told, even if you told them, you doubted they’d believe you. “She almost bumped into Kylo Ren yesterday,” Sadie says quickly, covering her eyes with her hands. Suddenly all eyes are on her, waiting for an explanation. She mouths a silent “sorry” before launching into her fabricated explanation.

                “He was waiting outside the door yesterday when General Hux was leaving,” she says. “Hux told us to go ahead first, and we started to go out into the corridor, and Kylo Ren was standing right at the entrance like a creep. I think he wanted to talk to General Hux about something.” She looks sideways at you. “He didn’t say anything. She mumbled an apology and he just kind of stood there and then we ran away.”

                The atmosphere in the room is suddenly tense and awkward. “If that is your concern,” B says. “I very much doubt it had anything to do with you. He probably doesn’t even remember the incident. Believe me when I say that man has many other issues to deal with at the moment.”

                “Although most seem to be his own doing,” C says quietly, a playful smirk on his lips.

                “The man creates trouble wherever he goes,” B agrees. “Just avoid him, all right?”

                “No argument there,” Sadie says loudly, speaking for the both of you. She winks at you, and you force an appreciative smile to your lips. Sometimes it scared you how lying had become second nature to her, but she was fiercely loyal to you in the same way that you were fiercely loyal to her. If there was anyone on this base that you could talk to about this, it would be her.

                Maybe.

                Truthfully, yes, that was the whole reason you had brought her with you, wasn’t it? So you would have someone to complain to and commiserate with if things started to go terribly? But that was the thing. You had expected that you might have gotten irreparably bored being on a base for six months, or for the Tortutaru to be absolutely miserable and hard to get along with. You had never expected to find yourself in unnecessary danger from an evil psychopath. And if you were in danger, perhaps confiding in her would put her life in danger too. Kylo had not specifically told you _not_ to tell anyone, but you figured if he had decided to let you live, then he had also decided that you were smart. And smart people did not go around telling people things that they didn’t need to know.

                What were you supposed to say anyway? _“Hey, Sadie, listen. Thanks for covering for me tonight, but I feel like I owe you the truth. Kylo Ren came into my room last night. He took off his mask and tucked my hair behind my ear and stroked my cheek and when he talked, his voice got low in a really good way, and I swear if he wasn’t some sort of crazy-”_

                Yeah, no. She would go running straight to B with that information for sure. He would freak out, probably at General Hux, and then Kylo Ren would have your neck with that weird glowing sword thing that C had described. No, right now you would wait and see how things played out. You didn’t need to tell her anything.

                Fortunately or unfortunately, Kylo Ren did not come to your room that night, although if he did you might have simply slept through his knocking. You weren’t quite sure what would happen if you slept through it. Would he pitch a fit and destroy your door? Would he open it somehow using this mysterious Force? Would he simply walk away and return another night? That last thought seemed like far too rational of a reaction for a man that would simply get up and destroy a console for seemingly no reason. Well, there was probably a reason, you were sure of that, but you were just hoping that it had nothing to do with you.

                Getting through the meeting with Taro was tense and awkward. You were interpreting a lot slower than you usually were, probably because you weren’t so much interpreting as you were taking the time to mentally process each question that Taro asked for yourself. Sadie was right. He did ask a lot of weird questions; about how good of a shot they were, about their luck, about random things that it didn’t seem like the First Order would even really care about. The other weird thing was, and you had noticed this even before the whole incident with Kylo Ren, was that Taro didn’t even seem to write anything down. He always knew the name of the person coming in, although usually that name sounded less like a name and more like a serial number, like TN-4273. But you couldn’t help but wonder, what was the point of all this? Storm Troopers would come in, spend forty minutes answering bizarre questions, and then leave. Taro didn’t write anything down; how much information could he retain? And what did the Tortutaru, or the First Order, hope to gain by this?

                You realize, of course, that’s the exact sort of question that you weren’t supposed to get an answer to, but how much longer could you pretend to be neutral in this? If Taro and the others were searching for Force-sensitive people, wouldn’t you then have a conflict of interest, especially if people in the First Order were looking to train or put down people like you? If that was the case, you had a vested interest in knowing the outcome, and the purpose, of these little meetings that Taro and the others were having. Your life could depend on it. In the back of your mind, while you’re interpreting, you try to figure out how to bring this up to Taro, but your interpreting is obviously suffering as a result, and you keep asking the Storm Trooper – who obstinately refused to take his helmet off – to repeat himself, and all of Taro’s questions, which you had voiced for probably a dozen times before, suddenly didn’t make any sense to you.

                It can’t be more than twenty minutes before Taro tells the Storm Trooper that he can go, and you shut your eyes and sigh, expecting a reprimand. You were obviously doing a lousy job, and you hoped that B wouldn’t hear of this. Right now, you at least served a purpose in interpreting for Taro. But if you proved to be doing sloppy work, what would they do if they decided your skills were no longer desired? Would they send you back to school early? The thought was far too optimistic to be considered a realistic possibility.

                When you finally look back up at Taro, he makes the sign for _distracted_ and points to you. You just shake your head and shrug, like there’s nothing you can do about it. He looks displeased.

                Frustrated, you pick up your hands. _Will you please tell me what is going on?_

                His hands are in the air immediately, as if he’s ready to finally talk to you. _I am sorry. Kylo Ren was interrogating me about the presence of Force-sensitives on board, and I accidentally let your name come to mind. It was an unintentional slip. I am sorry._

 _So I am Force-sensitive?_ you ask. He nods. _So what does that mean? Am I in danger?_

 _In times of war, we are all in danger_ , he replies. You find it interesting the way he signs _war_ like _conflict_ , two sides with opposing viewpoints clashing against each other. You take it that was what really was happening here, two sides locked in a seemingly endless confrontation, but you couldn’t be sure who was on one side and who was on the other.  

                You sigh, and he looks as though he has finished with this conversation. As he makes a move to stand up, you sign his name, _K-R,_ in a vertical line down the left side of your face. Taro immediately sits back down. _Room – mine._ You make the sign for two people, holding up your index fingers, keeping one close to your chest to illustrate yourself. You bring your other hand towards the one by your chest to illustrate that he came to you. Your fingers hold the same shape and position as you turn your wrists to face each other and move your fingers back and forth in opposite motions in front of your mouth, indicating _dialogue. Conversation._

                Taro narrows his eyes and spells out the word for emphasis. _When?_

                You hold up one finger then thoughtlessly throw up another one, carelessly throwing it over your shoulder. _One or two days ago._ You quickly make the sign for _sun_ and drag it down beneath your other arm to indicate _night._

                Taro shakes his head and rubs at his temple with one hand, as if he should have seen this coming. Finally he makes the sign for _happen_ with only one hand, although he looks away from you, as if he didn’t really want to know.

                You make an o-handshape with both hands, pinching your middle finger to your thumb, and shake them in the air, indicating _nothing._ He looks at you skeptically, and you quickly explain yourself.

 _He said he wouldn’t tell anyone about me. In exchange, he just wanted me to let him into my head._ He cocks his head to the side, waiting for the answer to the question he didn’t ask. You shake your head. _No, he told me he couldn’t get in my head but he still wanted in. When I told him I didn’t know how to let him, he told me he would come back another night._

                Taro places his hands on the table and presses his fingertips into the cool metal, flexing and stretching his fingers. He seems to be thinking, and you wait silently for him to pick up his hands and speak again. _Do not let your mind slip around Kylo Ren. Remain on your guard around him. I cannot emphasize this enough. Do not let him in your head. He will want to, and he can try, but you cannot let him in._

                You frown. _Okay, but how? I don’t know how I’m keeping him out._

                He puzzles over this for a moment and asks if you are a visual thinker. You shrug and tell him that you guess you are. He touches his middle finger to his forehead and holds it there for a moment.

_Pretend that there is a giant wall in your mind. Picture it. Picture the bricks, the slabs of mortar between each stone. You are on one side of the wall. He is on the other. When he is trying to get into your mind, pretend he is trying to poke holes in the wall. Pretend he is trying to push a brick through, pushing at each one in turn, looking for a weak spot. Stay behind the wall. Do not allow him one brick. Do not allow him one peek. Do not allow him to look through. If he takes one brick, he will take another, and then it won’t be long until the whole wall falls. Keep the wall strong and stay behind it. It will not fall and he will not be able to read your thoughts._

                You hesitate. _But he told me he would keep it a secret if I let him in._

                Taro just shakes his head sadly and makes the sign for _trust._ He holds it for a moment and then shifts to one side and makes the sign for Kylo Ren. He shifts to the other side of his body and points to himself. He waits.

                You nod slowly and point to him, because it’s true. You do trust Taro more than Kylo Ren. You weren’t sure if you should or not, but there was no one else on base that you felt that you could really trust with this, especially since you had heard about Kylo Ren’s outburst last night. What if he got mad about something he saw in your mind and decided to turn you in after all? He seemed to believe that you didn’t know the extent of your own powers, at least. You could always keep the wall up and just tell him you didn’t know that you were resisting him. After all, you had apparently been unconsciously resisting him this whole time. He wouldn’t be able to tell if you were doing anything differently, would he?

                Taro gets up and puts one of his hands on your head again. Your shoulders slump, and you quickly make the sign for _Why?_

 _Comfort_ is his reply, and you consider this. It reminds you of the way that you would pet an animal. At least he wasn’t petting you, just resting his hand on top of your head. Idly you wonder if this is his way of reading your mind when he pulls his hand away. It didn’t matter. You didn’t have anything to hide from him, although now you couldn’t help but wonder if he was coming up against the same difficulty that Kylo Ren was. What if you were somehow keeping _both_ of them out without realizing it? Did you really have some strange power to keep people from reading your mind? If you did, it wasn’t a huge surprise that no one had discovered it before. As far as secret powers went, it was kind of a lame one, especially considering that creatures with the ability to read minds were usually few and far between.

 _Except here,_ you think bitterly to yourself. Slowly you push yourself to your feet and follow Taro out of the room. Of course it made sense that you would only find out about your mind-blocking powers when surrounded by a group of beings that could read minds, but you would have much preferred to find out about it in a much more innocent way. What kind of way, you couldn’t have imagined, but you wish it had been done in a safe setting so that when assignments like these came up, you knew you should turn them down. At least this was a valuable learning experience for the future. If the First Order ever asked for more interpreters, you would warn anybody and everybody that would listen to you to stay clear of them for their own safety. You sure as hell wished someone had given you a stern warning before you stepped on board. You especially wish someone had given you a warning to stay far, far away from Kylo Ren…

                …who showed up at your door a few days later.

                You were sprawled across your bed, reading a book with your head resting in one hand when you heard the less-than-familiar knock on your door. Nervously, you slid out of bed and walked over to open it. You were wearing pants and a shirt this time, anxiously prepared for when he would return. You did not want to get caught almost half-naked in his presence again.

                As you open the door, he comes through quickly and stands in front of you, shoulders squared and at attention. You stand in front of him, arms crossed over your chest, about five feet away, giving him plenty of space. He doesn’t say anything, just stands there and observes you for a while.

                “Are you trying to read my mind?” you ask at length. You had assumed there would at least be some small talk or something before jumping right into it.

                “Are you ready to let me in?” That gravelly voice of his was back, and you can't stand it.

                “If we’re going to do this, please, mask off,” you say quickly.

                “No.” The reply is terse, immediate, and your eyes snap up to the slit in the mask. You try to picture his face, try to picture what emotion he is concealing under there, but you can’t.

                “Then I have a new rule,” you say, unsure of where your sudden boldness is coming from. “I’ll only let you in if I can see you.”

                He cocks his head to the side. “Why does it matter?”

                “Only cowards hide behind a mask,” you say softly. “The only reason you’re wearing it is either to intimidate me or so I can’t see the look on your face. If it’s the first, I’m not intimidated by you here, with everyone so close by. And if it’s the second-” You shrug. “I’ve already seen your face, so there’s no point in keeping it on.” 

                “Do you think I am a coward?” he asks in a low, threatening rumble, and for some reason you snap to your senses as you take a step back and shake your head from side to side. _Nope. Not a coward. No sir, not you._

                “You are very interesting,” he says, and this takes you completely off guard.

                “How so?” you murmur.

                “Getting involved in a skirmish you know nothing about?” he asks. “Putting your life in danger, all the while declaring yourself just to be a neutral messenger, as if that in itself is your claim to innocence.”

                “I never said I was innocent,” you say quietly, although you’re really not sure what you’re guilty of.

                “Did you know before you came here? About the Force?” he asks. It’s so hard to get any kind of reading of his emotions through the voice distortion. You know that was probably the point, but still.

                “No,” you reply simply. “I would like to think that I would’ve been smart enough to stay away if I had.”

                “Smart enough to stay away, and yet you just insinuated that I was a coward,” he muses.

                “I never said my intelligence was anything to boast about,” you say, but you’re stumbling over your words. You’re getting the distinct sense that he’s angry, and you’re not quite sure how to defuse him.

                “Are you afraid of me?” he asks. “You seem much more fearful than my last visit.”

                You raise your eyebrows in surprise. _Did he actually care if you were afraid of him? Was that his plan? To use intimidation to get you to drop your guard?_ “Well, you’re wearing the mask, for one. I also heard about…” You shut your mouth immediately as you picture him taking out his rage against a console, his shoulders heaving the way C had described.

                “And here I thought interpreters were supposed to maintain confidentiality,” he says, and for a split second you wonder if that whole scene had been orchestrated on purpose, to see if B and C would tell you about it.

                “We do,” you say quickly, leaping to their defense. “We were debriefing and it just came out. We – they – felt that it was important for us to know…” You don’t know how to finish your sentence. You’re stumbling over your words again, and you quickly try to picture yourself hiding behind a large brick wall. _He can’t hurt you if you’re behind the wall._

                “-that I can hurt you?” he asks, and you flinch instinctively at his words.

                He takes a step towards you, and you quickly raise your hand in the same manner that you had seen him do when he was in the room with Taro. Hand raised at the level of your chest, arm straight out, fingers slightly curved in. He stops and tilts his head to the side, studying you.

                You hesitate, and do the motion again, trying to push him back with your mind. That’s all you mean to do, just give him a little shove backwards, but nothing seems to be happening. You honestly didn’t really expect it to, but you had hoped that if you had some latent Force ability, it might wake up when you needed it to. And right now, you _really_ needed it to. He glowers for a moment, chin down, and you realize too late that you had put yourself on the offensive. From his perspective, you had just tried to attack him. You had just established yourself as a threat.

                “I think you meant to do this." He throws his arm out in the same motion, and suddenly you can feel invisible fingers close around your neck as you’re lifted up into the air. Your legs kick out in every direction, trying to stay on the ground. You try to speak, to say something, but your voice comes out in a distorted gasp as you feel yourself being dragged through the air towards him, until you can feel his stiff leather gloves close around your throat.

                He put his other hand on the side of your head, fingers pressed against your temple, and you close your eyes. _Brick wall, brick wall._ You try to picture it. You imagine you’re in a room with a large brick wall sealing off the other side, except the walls in the room are white, and they’re bright, as if illuminated by natural sunshine that is coming from no particular source. He is on the other side, you can hear him, pacing back and forth. Suddenly you feel a thundering from the bricks, as if he slammed both fists into them, and it feels like he had punched you instead. Your brain is hurting, aching, and every strike at the brick wall feels like a strike against you. You can feel tears in your eyes but you blink them back.

                “Let me in.” You’re not sure if he’s using his voice or telepathically communicating with you somehow, but it doesn’t matter. You are behind the wall. Taro said you would be safe behind the wall. You would be safe-

                The grip around your neck tightens, and you blink to relieve the sudden pressure behind your eyes. If he was going to choke you to death then fine, he was never going to get his answers then. You feel like someone had suddenly slapped large, mittened hands on either side of your ears, and suddenly the small, desperate sounds of your struggles sounded muffled and far away. You started to see spots in your vision, large black and dark green blotches appearing in places they shouldn’t, and as the corners of your vision filled with blackness you quickly shut your eyes and-

                The pressure on your throat released, but your legs would no longer support you. You felt yourself falling and in one swift motion, Kylo Ren swooped down, caught you, and lifted you in his arms like a sleeping child and laid you down gently on your bed. The room was still spinning around you, your vision still spotting before your eyes as you brought air in and out of your lungs. He put his hand to your head again, and there was a sharp, painful stinging sensation that you couldn’t place that started in your brain and raced down your spine.

 _Brick wall. Brick wall._ You imagine yourself crouched over as the wall shudders under his wrath, but you scoot away from it. You picture yourself putting your hands over your head and holding them there, even though you are distinctly aware that you seem to have lost all ability to move your limbs.

                “Let me in,” he says quietly, and now you know he was talking, because the distortion through the mask blurred the words into an almost incomprehensible jumble.

                “Or you’ll make it hurt worse?” you croak. Your voice sounds nothing like yourself, hoarse and rasping. You can just make out a faint whistle as you breathe in. It hurts, but honestly you feel so close to being on the brink of passing out, like one part of you is conscious and the other part of you is half-asleep, that it makes it hard to tell where the pain is coming from or if you really are in pain at all. It’s like you’re trying to split yourself between two brains, and you wonder if this is the Force at work, or something else entirely. Maybe this was the body’s way of processing that you were dying? You hadn’t a clue, but if you died then Kylo Ren wouldn’t get the answers he was apparently so desperate for, and that was fine by you.

                He pulls his hand away from you, as if he realizes this for himself. “Keep going,” you murmur weakly, and you can hear a low grunt from the mask. For some reason, you needed this. When you had first seen Kylo Ren up close and personal, you had thought that maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy. Maybe a little misunderstood, or reckless, or a bit of a loose cannon, but he had been reasonable before. This was the Kylo Ren you had been expecting. The Kylo Ren that smashed control panels and took whatever he wanted by force. You knew he was going to torture it out of you, and when torture didn’t work-

                You close your eyes and listen to the rasping sound of the breaths flowing in and out of your chest. Is it supposed to sound like that? There’s some kind of whine in there, an ugly wet sound that you’re not really sure you’ve ever heard before. You open your eyes a crack to see him standing above you, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. You close your eyes again and slump down into the pillow, not trying to hide, just trying to suppress the headache that was quickly forming in the top of your skull.

                You feel him reaching for you again, and you don’t have the strength to pull away. Something is different about this, though, and it takes you a moment to realize that he doesn’t have his gloves on this time. You feel him brush your hair out of your face, and slowly he begins stroking your hair in smooth, deliberate motions, his thumb occasionally brushing against your cheek. _What is this?_ For a moment, you’re not even sure it’s really happening. The Kylo Ren who was just choking you was now…smoothing down your hair? You try to put two and two together, but for some reason, it’s not making any sense. You just came to the firm conclusion that Kylo Ren was a bad, evil person and now he was being gentle with you like…

                …like he was sorry for what he did? After a few more minutes of this, he gently reaches down and touches your neck with his fingertips. You wince and jerk back into the pillow, stung with the sudden sensation. There’s a bruise there, you realize idly, and for a moment you crack your eyes open again to see him standing there, hovering above you, with his hand outstretched like he’s not quite sure what to do.

                “Didn’t get in, did you?” you ask him. You’re pushing your luck, and you know that, but you’re a glutton for punishment, apparently, because you need him to torture you again, to remind you that he is an inexorable, cruel bastard. But you feel like your hold on this world is slipping, and so you reach out and grab at something, anything, to tether to as a lifeline. Unfortunately, that thing is his hand, and although he recoils in surprise, he does not pull away. Instead he takes your hand in his and holds it. You can feel the warm skin of his palm against your own.

                You want to open your eyes to see his expression, but you know if you do, all you’ll see is the mask. And that was such a stupid thing. You feel a sudden burst of anger within you, and you let it fuel you, if only for a few brief moments. He had the nerve to walk in here and keep his helmet on while he assaulted you, and then had even more nerve to keep it on while he tried to comfort you and hold your hand. He had kept it on that entire time so you couldn’t use his emotions against him. You try to picture the look on his face when he had choked you. Was he anxious? Afraid? Nervous? Or completely apathetic? And what about now? What was he now? He wouldn’t take off the mask. Whatever he was, you had no way of knowing.

 _"_ Coward,” you hiss at him, but you don’t let go of his hand as you let yourself slip away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH!! Okay guys, I know that was intense, so a few quick notes: 
> 
> 1\. Okay, first, this is Kylo Ren we're talking about, so you should have seen that coming sooner or later. =P Fortunately, it happened sooner, but it fit well in terms of where I want the story to go. I have 30 chapters (give or take) planned out, and this is only chapter 7, so have faith in the narrative arc! 
> 
> 2\. I can't emphasize this enough, this is not going to be an abusive ship. I just want to get that out there. Yes, he choked her and the aftermath of his actions, and her reaction to it, is going to be a thread the runs through the next few chapters. 
> 
> 3\. I don't want to spoil anything, but good things can come out of bad things. Sometimes it lets allows you to make new friends, or allows you to open up to others ways you didn't think you could before, or other people can surprise you with new opportunities. THAT'S ALL I'M SAYING. 
> 
> 4\. I think you guys are really going to like the next two chapters, so stay tuned. ;) Until tomorrow, cheers!!


	8. Chapter 8

                You don’t know why you expected Kylo Ren to be standing by your bedside when you woke up. Maybe it was because he had held your hand while you slipped into unconsciousness and stayed by your side for quite a few hours after the fact; but, of course, you had no way of knowing that. Instead, you woke up to an empty room, a pounding headache, and a kink in your neck. You sigh and sit up slowly, rubbing at your face with both hands. You felt like you had been run over by a bulldozer. You slowly slide your legs out of bed and almost limp over to the sink in the bathroom; shuffling is apparently as fast as you can move right now.

                You reach over and grab a glass with one hand as you flick on the light switch. As you’re filling up your cup in the sink, your eyes meet your reflection in the mirror and… _who the fuck is that?_ You don’t look like yourself. At all. The first thing your eyes are drawn to are, well, your eyes, which are red and bloodshot. They are immediately drawn down to your neck where you see ugly red and purple bruises along your throat. Abandoning your cup in the sink, you gently probe the glands underneath your jaw with your fingertips, and immediately jerk your hands away. The area is tender and swollen, as is most of your face. The swelling there isn’t actually too terrible, but your face definitely looks flushed. It doesn’t help that your hair is sticking out in all directions.

                It literally looked like Kylo Ren had done his very best to kill you.

                Starting with the most remediable things first, you immediately grab your hair brush and start trying to tame your hair, although you can’t help but wince as your brush catches on a knot, sending a dart of pain shooting up the side of your neck. _Okay, maybe forget the hair for now._ Spawned on by a reckless sense of curiosity, you try to gently touch one of the purple contusions with just the extended tip of one finger, slowly, slowly – _nope._ Pain central; you might as well have just stuck your finger into an electrical socket.

                Suddenly you hear a knock on the door as B calls your name. “Hey, you okay in there? C and I were just about to head out. Are you up yet?”

                “Yeah,” you call back, or at least, you try to. It comes out as nothing more than a croak, and you hear B call your name again in confusion. He tries the door, but thankfully, it’s locked. You quickly rush into your bedroom and throw a large blanket around your shoulders, making sure to pinch it at your neck. You go closer to the door and try to say something, but it comes out as just another croak.

                “Is she okay in there?” Ladson asks from somewhere out in the living room.

                “I’m not sure,” is B’s muffled reply.

                You kick the door with your foot to show that you can hear them, and there’s silence for a minute.

                “We have to get going,” you hear C say in the background. “Make sure she’s okay?”

                “Will do,” Sadie says. You can hear them walk across the apartment and shut the door to their room behind them.

                Almost immediately, you can hear a knock against your own door. “Hey, you in there?” she asks. “It’s just me. I’m alone. Are you okay?”

                You unlock the door and open it a crack, just enough for her lithe frame to squeeze through. As soon as she’s in the room, you shut the door quickly behind you.

                “What the hell-?” You quickly dash over to her and clamp your hand over her mouth. Her eyes trail down your face to the bruises on your neck and her eyes go wide as she struggles to talk against your hand. You quickly drag her into the bathroom with you, shutting the door behind you as you shrug the blanket to the floor.

                “Don’t talk,” you whisper hoarsely to her. You pick up your hands. _Just sign._

She moves her hands in a quick series of expletives. You got the first few, but stopped paying attention after the third _fuck_.

                You make a thumbs-up gesture in one hand and put it in your other outstretched palm, raising it slowly and reluctantly into the space between you. _Help._

                “With what?” she asks through clenched teeth. “What the fuck happened to you?”

                _Quiet._ Gingerly you look back at your own reflection in the mirror. Your eyes don’t linger there. You really do look terrible.

_Who. You. Think._

“Kylo Ren,” Sadie whispers, and then clasps both hands over her mouth as if she had said something she shouldn’t. You give her a look that says _well, duh_ and she shakes her head. “What was he doing here?”

                You open your mouth wide, contorting your lips into a fake smile as you shake your open hands in a repeated gesture. _Just chattin’._

“That’s not funny,” she whispers. “Did he try to kill you?”

                You cock your head to the side and consider this. _If he wanted to kill me, I think I’d be dead._

She bites her lip and assesses you before she picks up her hands again. _You look like shit._ Graphic imagery aside, you appreciated how she spelled out the last word.

                You let your hands drop to your sides and roll your shoulders. _So what do I do now?_

She leans in a little closer, her eyes trained on your throat. “Aw shit.” She rubs at her chin with one hand before sneaking a glance at the closed door behind her. “You can’t go out like this. Can you even talk?”

                “No,” you croak.

                “Okay, don’t talk,” she shakes her head. “Oh gosh…” She looks at you with a mien of dawning horror, and you place her expression immediately. “We need to tell B.”

                “No,” you say again. You try to sound firm and forceful, but your voice sounds weaker and more choked than before.

                Sadie says your name in warning, but you’re ready with a response as you pick up your hands. _If you tell him, he’ll die._

Sadie stops and looks at you, really looks at you. She picks up her hands as well. _Did K-R say that?_

You don’t know how to respond to this, not really, so you just nod. _We’re all in danger._

She hesitates. _Does K-R know you’re alive? Or did he leave you for dead?_

It bothers you that she keeps spelling out K-R in a neutral space instead of using the sign that you all had adopted, but you supposed it didn’t really matter right now. The fact that you could get annoyed at these seemingly stupid things probably meant that you were at least feeling better.

                Or maybe you were trying to focus on how annoyed you were with Sadie because you suddenly remembered the way he had stroked your hair and held your hand last night.

                _I think he was sorry._

Sadie blinks at you like she’s not quite sure what you had just said, and so you repeat yourself slowly, emphasizing each sign and holding each word out in space for a moment. _I think he was sorry._

                “Why?” she asks, and you shrug. “Then what makes you think he was sorry?”

                You trail a finger down your cheek to indicate a tear, and she slaps your arm lightly as you smirk. Suddenly, something else dawns on her. She hits you again, harder this time, and you stare at her in confusion as you rub your arm. “Are you fucking him?”

                You almost burst out laughing, but it comes out as more of a wheeze, and so you quickly stop yourself. You shake your head from side to side as rapidly as possible. “I didn’t hear a no,” she says.

                “No,” you croak, and you’re surprised your voice almost held for that one. You pick up your hands again. _In what galaxy would I be fucking him?_

 _You said he was sorry_ , she retorts. _I don’t know if you’re into breath play or some shit. You had this weird expression on your face._

You narrow your eyes at her. It’s all you can do, really. You refuse to even dignify her accusation with a response. You snap your fingers twice in the air and then gesture to yourself, trying to swing the conversation back to where it needed to go.

                “I’ll talk to Taro,” she says. “Try to work something out. Maybe I can interpret both my meeting and yours, as long as he doesn’t mind waiting.” You nod your head in a silent thank you. “But we’re going to have to tell B something.”

                You shake your head. _Sick?_

“I guess,” she replies. “In the meantime, you’re lucky I brought some turtlenecks and scarves with me.

                “I have-“

                “Don’t talk. I know you’ve got your own but I’ve got much more of a selection than you do, and people might get suspicious if it looks like you’re wearing the same thing day in and day out.” She sighs and plucks a tendril of hair out of her face. “Hopefully with a little variety, people won’t notice as much.”

                You look at yourself in the mirror again and try to talk. “It doesn’t look that bad.”

                Sadie huffs, balling her hands into fists as she places them on her hips. “Don’t defend him.”

                “Defend him?” you turn to her and raise an eyebrow. “I’m defending my ego.” You shake your head and decide not to press your voice too much. _Please, you should have seen me. I was indestructible. He couldn’t get in._

“Get in?” she whispers, confused. Suddenly the realization strikes her. _Was this about the Force?_

You roll your eyes. Well, secret was out now. Might as well tell her. _He said he won’t tell anybody about it if I let him in my head, but Taro warned me not to. He really tried, I think he really, really tried, but I think he stopped when he realized it would have killed me if he kept going._

She shakes her head. “I don’t like this. We should tell B.”

                You narrow your eyes at her. _He’ll probably kill you too if he knows I told you._

“Then why did you tell me?” Sadie hisses, her eyes wide. “What if he comes after me now?”

                You shake your head. _You have nothing he wants. He could have been in your head already. You have nothing he wants._

She looks unsure. “And you do?”

                You shrug. “Apparently.” _He wants to get in there for a reason, right?_

“I guess,” Sadie says as she presses her fingertips into her temple. “This whole thing is so messed up. What are you going to do if he comes back?”

                You drop into a lunge and pull both fists in front of your face, throwing a few good-natured jabs in the air. “That isn’t funny,” she says. “He could have killed you.”

                You shake your head, letting your pride win this round. _Can’t kill me. I’m too strong._

Sadie just shakes her head. “Look, if you want to deal with this, deal with this, but please keep me out of it. I want to get home in one piece, and I don’t have the same sort of mental protective thing that you do. If things go from bad to worse-“ she eyes you carefully. “-or from worse to way worse, please tell B.”

                You just nod and wrap your arms around her in a quick hug. She sighs and lets you do it, but makes no move to hug you back. “I know,” she sighs. “I’m the greatest.”

                She turns around and heads out of your room, making sure to shut the door behind her as she leaves.

                “How is she?” you hear Ladson ask.

                “Um, disgusting,” Sadie responds. “I think she caught some kind of stomach bug or something. She threw up _everywhere_. It’s just eww. She’s really sick. We’re going to need to cover for her today.”

                They move away from the door and into the kitchen, but you have no desire to strain yourself to listen to what they have to say. Instead, you head into the bathroom and gingerly splash cold water on your face, mentally willing yourself to look normal again.

                Not long after, you hear the familiar shutting of doors as they head off to work. You lie down on your bed to read for a while, but you can’t keep your thoughts focused on the words. To be honest, it’s kind of giving you a headache. You pace around the room for a while, but you refuse to think about last night. You don’t dare dwell on it. Not yet, anyway. Not until you can at least look at yourself in the mirror again.

                You search through your room for your turtleneck and scarves, finding them tucked away together in a bottom drawer, as if they knew they would be needed for just this occasion. You scowl as you search through your clothes, which were mostly all the same color…such was the life of an interpreter. You were advised to wear clothes that were the opposite of your skin tone to make your hands easier to read, and so wearing something colorful was out of the question. Patterns and designs were also distracting, so you had kept your wardrobe down to simple necessity. It was easier to read your hands against a dark canvas, and so that was what you wore. All the time. Day in and day out.

                Idly you think of Kylo Ren, who also wore an exclusively black wardrobe. You laugh at yourself. _Maybe you can ask to borrow one of his scarves if he ever drops by again._ As you’re digging through your drawer, there is a sudden knock on the door and you look up sharply. It couldn’t be. It was during the day. Kylo Ren didn’t stop by during the day when anyone might catch him. Was this a special occasion? Did he come to apologize? Or kill you?

                Well, if it was the latter, he had better make it quick then. You step forward and throw open the door to find Taro standing there, hovering over the doorway. You sigh and close your eyes, the relief on your face palpable. You quickly invite him inside, and he ducks down to get through the door as you shut it behind him.

                You don’t need to say anything. You brush your hair back out of your face, and the purple and red bruises on your neck practically glow in this light. A look of concern touches his eyes, but you shake your head as you carelessly poke yourself in the chest with your thumb, keeping your fingers limp. _I’m fine._

                _Explain,_ he says.

                You sit down on the bed, cross-legged, and look up at him. _Kylo Ren came here last night. He wanted in. He didn’t get in._ You can’t help but crack a smile, and Taro looks at you strangely. You notice immediately that it was similar to the expression that Sadie had on her face earlier, and it makes you laugh as you repeat the sign for _fine_ again.

                _Are you sure he didn’t get in?_

 _Sure_ , you reply, straightening up again. _I am very sure. He tried really hard, but I did what you said. I stayed behind the wall, and the wall stayed up._ You sober up a bit. _It hurt a lot. I think he was thinking that if I was in enough pain the wall would come down, but I didn’t let it. The wall stayed put._

He nods quickly, as if he’s relieved by this news. You find yourself repeating the sign for _fine_ again, even though he didn’t ask. He looks at you for a long time, but he doesn’t say anything.

                _Do you think he’s going to come back?_ you ask. _Try again?_

He shakes his head. _Not sure._

There’s silence for a long while. He doesn’t know what to say. Neither do you. _If he does, I can take him,_ you tell him. You’re not sure why you need to convince everyone that you have this covered when you can barely convince yourself.

Taro looks at you as time stretches on and on. Finally, he picks up his hands again. _He could have killed you._

 _Yeah, well…._ You pluck your thumb underneath your chin. _Didn’t._

He hesitates. _Did you tell anyone about what happened? B?_

You shake your head and do Sadie’s sign name, followed by the sign for _girl_ , running your thumb in a downward slash across your cheek. _She doesn’t want to be involved_ , you add quickly.

                _Good_ , is his reply. _Do not tell B. Do not tell anyone._

You hesitate. _Are you telling your friends about this?_ He makes a face, as if he’s not sure how to respond. _Don’t worry about it. I don’t need to know._ Because if you know, then that’s one more thing that you’re going to have to worry about and puzzle over for the next few days, and you had enough on your plate as it was.

                _I should go,_ Taro says. _I don’t think anyone should see me here, but I wanted to make sure you were okay._

 _Thanks,_ you say as you let a genuine smile surface on your lips. _If he comes back, should I let him in?_ You pause, and then add the sign for _door. Not my head. Should I let him in the room?_

He closes his eyes and then nods slowly. He points to you and then makes the sign for _strong._

 _Stupid,_ you correct him.

                _Brave_ , he insists.

                You just smile softly as he turns around and awkwardly makes his way out the door, shutting it behind him. As soon as he’s gone, you flop over onto your stomach with a loud groan. At least _that_ sounded normal. Hopefully tomorrow you would be able to return to work. The sooner you got back, the less people would be suspicious of your circumstances. You couldn’t help but feel like there was some massive conspiracy that you weren’t in on, but what could it be? Obviously the point of a conspiracy was that you weren’t supposed to be in the know, but you couldn’t help but wonder if you were involved in some way.

                You change positions and lie with your head on the pillow, immediately regretting it as you remember this was the same positon you were in last night. Awkwardly, you reach up and try to smooth down your own hair the way he did. It definitely _felt_ like a comforting gesture, but you couldn’t be sure why he had done it. Did Kylo Ren feel bad about what he did? Was he showing remorse? Had he only meant to scare you? Had he taken himself too far? You shake your head. With the mask on, you had no way of reading him, but his emotions didn’t matter. It didn’t excuse what he did.

                You trudge back into the bathroom again. Several hours have passed, and the swelling on your face had gone down considerably, and your eyes were no longer bloodshot. You try your voice: still a bit croaky, but not bad. The bruises were still there, but if no one could see your neck, you could easily pass for having a bad sore throat. You take a towel and dip it in some cold water and hold it against your neck. The area isn’t as tender as it was before, but it still aches some, and you can only hope that the cold will do it some good. You have no idea if it will or not, as you stand in front of the bathroom mirror and stare down your own reflection, but it can’t hurt to try.

                Suddenly you catch your own expression in the mirror, and you finally understand why Sadie and Taro were so concerned when they looked at you. You look far too confident and cocky, as if you stared death in the face and won. Is that what had happened? You try to replay the incident in your head. You had made a move to attack him first. Even though you didn’t actually do anything, was he acting in self-defense? Was he afraid that you _could_ potentially have the power to hurt him? You shake your head. It was pretty clear by the time he had you around the throat that you couldn’t have hurt him if you tried. So if it wasn’t self-defense, then what was it? Was he really just trying to weaken you to get inside your head? Or had you provoked him into a mood? Was he choking you in anger and frustration until he realized how much damage he was doing? Was it some combination of the two?

                You take a deep breath in and let it out. Did his reasoning really even matter? No matter what the excuse, the bruises were still there, justified or not. You stare at your reflection and let out another deep breath. Well, if and when Kylo Ren ever did come back, you could deal with it then. In the meantime, you would just have to deal with getting better so you could go back to work and not raise anyone’s suspicions.

                Lucky for you, it would be a while before Kylo Ren could bring himself to step foot in your doorway again.

                But, of course, you had no way of knowing that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *stumbles into frame* Oh hi, I didn't see you there. So good news and bad news. Bad news first, I was reading over this chapter and it seemed needlessly long, so I decided to cut it into two parts, which of course means that you're going to have to wait until tomorrow to read the rest! Sorry! Good news is that I literally pulled an all-nighter just working on this story, writing, writing, writing. I was in a really good energy and it was really flowing, so I just kept writing until I looked down at the clock and saw that it was 6 AM. Woops? So what does that mean for you?
> 
> Well, the good news is that I wrote up to Chapter 18, which means you can be sure that I actually have a plan for this story and I'm not just leading you down a giant rabbit hole. Unfortunately, I'm still going to stick with one chapter a day, and here's why. I usually write the first draft of a chapter, and then I go back and reread it immediately for mistakes or little fixes here and there. (I didn't do that last night; I wrote a good 30 pages just straight through and I haven't looked back....yet.) Then I do my first edit, my second edit, and then a third revision for basic spelling/grammar checks before I post it. It usually takes me 2-3 days to write a chapter, and then I usually spend a few hours editing it. It may sound like a lot, but I really have gotten attached to this story, and all of your positive comments have made writing it a very special experience for me. I know it's just fanfiction, but I really appreciate all the support that you guys have been giving me, and the best way I can show my appreciation is by giving you the best product possible. 
> 
> So until tomorrow, my friends!! I'm going to go take a nap now....zzzz.....
> 
> EDIT: Quick note about breath play, that shit can be dangerous! If you're going try to it, please do it in a safe setting and google it first so you're aware of the risks and how to do it safely!. One of my friends (;)) tried it with her partner and wasn't choked to the point of blacking out, but she still had bloodshot eyes and a sore throat for a good while after the fact. A lot of bad stuff can happen if you're being choked "wrong." Knowledge is power, be safe out there!


	9. Chapter 9

                That night, you stayed in your room and avoided eating dinner with the others, under the guise that you were still sick and probably contagious. Sadie had brought you soup, which was a blessing in itself since your throat still ached, although she hinted that B was not happy with you missing an assignment. But what could you do, really? You suspected that he was less angry about that and more irritated over the fact that you refused to let anyone but Sadie into your room, but the less he knew the better. You didn’t know what he would do if he found out what really happened. Would he confront Kylo Ren about it? That would probably result in him getting killed. Or getting all of you killed. The last thing you needed was for everyone to be walked down the hall execution-style before Kylo Ren ran you through with his lightsaber. So you just sat in your room on your bed, sipping soup out of a small silver spoon, and let unwarranted thoughts flood your mind in place of normal dinner conversation.

                For some reason, something that B had said came back to you. _We’re all playing a role here._ So what was your role supposed to be, exactly? Yes you were an interpreter, and you had thought that was all you were, but now you were starting to think that there was something else to that. Kylo Ren had singled you out, specifically, because of your Force power. The rules had changed. The nature of the game had changed. You could no longer be neutral in this. You were going to have to pick a side, although the distinctions between each weren’t divided into the neat little clusters that you had previously imagined. Before you had always thought that the people who were participating in war were soldiers, clearly identified by the color of their armor or their uniform. And yet, here you were, playing a small part of a much bigger conflict that you didn’t understand.

                Kylo Ren had indicated that you would be safe if you hid out on your academia and didn’t let anyone know that you were Force-sensitive, but how long would it be until they targeted that planet too? Plus, you would always be paranoid that he would either let it slip that you were Force-sensitive to the First Order or send out an assassin himself to make quick work of you. No, you were no longer neutral. For the sake of the assignment, you would have to pretend to be, but you couldn’t keep lying to yourself. It was far too dangerous for that. Either you were with the First Order or against them.

                But this was a difficult conclusion to make in itself, because you didn’t know who was fighting the First Order. You knew it was the Resistance, but you didn’t know who that consisted of or where they were in the galaxy. Would they be more welcoming of your Force-sensitivity? Would they train you, or would they dispatch you too? This was a war. There was no clear-cut perspective, no black or white; everything was morally grey, you still chose to believe that much. So if you weren’t against the First Order, were you with them?  You didn’t even know what they stood for or supported. When you had first connected your datapad to their network looking for reading material, you saw that they had a vast collection of propaganda available for browsing, but B had cautioned you against reading through it. He still felt that the less you knew the better, and you doubted you would have learned much from reading through propaganda, anyway.

                You sink your head into your hands and let out a small moan. This was way too complicated to think about. Something was going on, something much larger than yourself, and not only did you not have any answers, but you had no real way of getting the exhaustive explanations that you required to really make an informed decision about the whole affair. You were basically a hostage here, come to think of it, completely at Kylo Ren’s mercy. He could come in and kill you tonight, and then you wouldn’t have to worry about choosing sides or interpreting or these ridiculous bruises or the fact that this soup was actually too spicy and kind of tasted like shit if you were being totally honest with yourself.

                You reach over and place the bowl of soup on your nightstand, half finished. You weren’t really hungry anyway. These were dangerous thoughts to be thinking, especially with Kylo Ren so determined to get into your mind. If he managed to get in and so much as suspected treason, he could either kill you or make life downright unpleasant for you. What if he decided to take you prisoner, and then you truly were a hostage of the First Order?

                You lie down and curl up in the fetal position, pulling your knees to your chest. Things were so much easier when you were interpreting, when you could just zone out and you weren’t constantly confronted with all of these useless, unpleasant thoughts. Maybe that’s why you liked it, or was at least one of the reasons why you liked it, at any rate. It let you get out of your own head, if only for a little while. Instead of suffering through your own thoughts, you could at least take a small comfort in expressing the thoughts and feelings of other’s for a change. But, of course, this was only a temporary reprieve. The assignments, especially here with Taro, weren’t that long, and you had to come back and face the reality of your situation eventually.

                “I’m not a hostage,” you tell the ceiling. “I’m just an interpreter. And when I’m done here, I’ll get to go home with Sadie and everyone else. Everything is going to be fine. Everything is going to be okay.” At least the ceiling didn’t call you a liar. But then again, it didn’t need to. It was just a ceiling. It didn’t know one way or the other, nor did it particularly care about what happened to you. Realizing its indifference, you roll over onto your stomach, bury your face in your pillow, and try to get to sleep.

 

                You fall asleep almost immediately, and thankfully, if Kylo Ren did show up at your door that night, you took no notice of it. And, if he had been there, at least the door was still standing when you woke up. You quickly head into the bathroom for a quick shower and are relieved to see the reflection in the mirror looking like your usual self. Your eyes are clear, there is no more swelling, and you look totally normal except for those ugly bruises on your neck. You slowly bring yourself to meet your eyes. “Hi.” You see your reflection wince a little bit, wrinkling up her nose at the sound of your voice. It still hasn’t completely healed, but it should be passable for this assignment.

                Heading back into your room, you get dressed and grab a collection of scarves that Sadie had slipped you yesterday and try them on in the mirror, tying them in different positions. Finally you decide on one of your black ones and manage to tie it into a sort of half cape that’s wrapped around your neck and flows down over your shoulders. It’s not perfect, but no one can see the bruises on your neck, so it serves its purpose. You head into the kitchen and make yourself a hot cup of tea, hoping it will soothe your throat.

                “Well, look who finally decided to show herself,” Ladson says teasingly as he comes out of his room.

                “Hi,” you croak, offering him a small half-smile.

                “Geez, you sound terrible,” Ladson says. “What’s going on?”

                You shrug and make the sign for _sick_ with one hand. He tilts his head to the side, as if considering this. “The stress of being on base with the First Order is getting to you, huh?”

                He turns his back to you as he prepares his own breakfast. “I guess,” you croak.

                “B’s not going to let you work today sounding like that,” Ladson says, and you wait for him to turn back around before signing.

                _Sadie said he wants me back to work as soon as possible. He was pissed at me yesterday for missing work, wasn’t he?_

“Not pissed,” Ladson says thoughtfully. “No, he was just disappointed, I guess.”

                You frown at him. _That makes it worse._

                “No, no,” he quickly makes an effort to correct himself. “I just mean, if you were really sick, he wished you would have said something before they left. He or C could have covered your meeting, had they known.”

                “Oh,” you say. “Right. Makes sense.” You swallow your tea in one gulp and Ladson quickly pours you another mug.

                “What’s with the scarf thing?” he asks, pointing to it.

                You lean back instinctively, out of his reach, in case he tries to touch it. “Throat hurts, I don’t know.”

                “Black cape? It kind of looks like you’re trying to mimic Kylo Ren there,” he says teasingly. “Let’s hope he doesn’t get offended.”

                You resist the urge to tear it off of you immediately.

                “There you are.” You weren’t exactly looking forward to facing B this morning, but his presence could not have come at a more opportune time. “How are you feeling?”

                “Fine,” you reply. You try to make your voice sound firm. If anything, it makes it sound worse.

                “Maybe you should take today off too,” B says quickly. You notice he keeps his distance from you, as if you might actually be contagious. _Good._

                “No, I’m fine,” you repeat. You sip more tea and clear your throat, hitting your chest and emitting a few rough coughs for good measure. “No, I’m fine, really. It’s not that bad.”

                “If you’re sure,” B says. “I know you can take care of yourself, but don’t push yourself too hard. It’s fine if you need another day to rest.”

                You wave him off, downing your second cup of tea. “Cute scarf,” you hear from behind you, and you turn around to see Sadie.

                “You don’t think she looks like Kylo Ren?” Ladson asks. “All she needs is a hood and it’d be a perfect match.”

                “Nah,” Sadie says, looking you over. “I don’t see it.” She goes to get something from the fridge. “But it looks good though, the scarf. You should wear it more often.”

                “Are you going to hold me to that?” you ask.

                “I don’t even think I’ll need to,” Sadie turns around to face you. “Remember when I told you that you looked good in those boots my father got me from Coruscant? You wore them-”

                “I wore them every day for a month,” you reply. “It almost killed me to give them back to you.”

                “Actually, I’m pretty sure you still have there somewhere,” Sadie says casually.

                Actually, there were no boots, from Coruscant or anywhere, but the boys didn’t need to know that.

                “Girls,” Shayne says, shaking his head as he emerges from his own room. “Is that all you two care about? Fashion?”

                Sadie makes a noise of mock disgust and turns back to preparing her breakfast. “You caught me,” you murmur sarcastically. “This outfit? It took _days_ to plan.”

                “As long as it doesn’t get in the way of your work, I couldn’t care less how you choose to accessorize,” B sighs into his hands. Secretly, you’re enjoying his pain. If he thinks that your choice of attire is more about fashion and less about covering up bruises, then your deception was worth it.

                Sadie picks up on it too. “Oh come on,” she goads. “I bet you would look great in a scarf. I’ll let you borrow one of my pink ones. Or maybe a bright yellow.”

                “You got a blue one?” you ask. “It’ll match his eyes.”

                “And I’m done here,” B says as he heads back into his room. “See you all tonight.”

                “So how’re you holding up?” Shayne asks you as B makes his way out of the room. “Like that soup I made last night?”

                “A wee bit spicy,” you tell him.

                He shrugs it off. “Probably just your throat hurting.” You suck in a deep breath and push it out through your nose. Ladson raises his eyebrows at you as he takes another sip from his mug and shakes his head.

                “Maybe,” you reply bitterly, but your voice cracks into an ugly sound halfway through the word.

                “Geez, use your hands,” Shayne says, stepping away from you, and you flip an obscene gesture towards his back.

                You let the conversation stir around you for a while, but you can’t help but feel like it’s the same old conversations being recycled over and over. There was never anything new happening on base. There was nothing new to talk about. Moreover, there was nothing to _do._ You slept in, ate breakfast, hung out, interpreted meetings, went to lunch, came back, hung out until dinner, ate dinner, and then went to your room to read until you fell asleep. You felt like you should be more grateful for the down time, especially since you had brought so many books to read, but you had honestly expected yourself to either be worked to the bone or bored out of your mind. You hadn’t really ever expected to be part of…well, whatever this strange matter with Kylo Ren was.  

                Eventually it’s time for work and you trudge through the corridors with the others. For some reason, every turn around a new corner exudes danger, and you feel like you might have a mini panic attack by the time you finally get to the room. You never saw Kylo Ren around base, so you weren’t quite sure why you were so afraid of seeing him now, aside from what had transpired the night before last.  

                “See you soon,” Sadie says as she disappears inside her own room, and you bow your head in a curt nod in reply.

                Taro is there waiting when you arrive, but he looks pleased to see you. Surprised, but pleased. _I’m alive,_ you tell him, sitting down in your swivel chair. For some reason, it felt like ages had passed since you last sat in it.

                He touches his middle finger to his chest and sweeps it upwards in a circular motion. _How are you feeling?_

                You shrug your shoulders and shake your head. _Can’t complain._ He points to the scarf and nods his head in approval. _Oh, you like this?_ You pluck a loose strand of hair casually off the edge of the scarf and drum your fingers against the side of your skull. _Hides the bruises, at least._

                _You humans bruise so easily._ You burst out in laughter, because you’re not really sure how to take that. Was that supposed to be an insult? You bite your lip and shake your head at him, but he just grins his toothless grin at you in response.

                Hey, if he was going to be a cheeky bastard, that was fine by you. It obviously meant that things on base weren’t that grim. Things had seemed pretty doom and gloom over the past couple of days, but if he was in a good enough mood to be telling jokes, then you took that as a sure sign to mean that things were headed in the right direction.

                You immediately shut your mouth and the laughter stops as the door to the room slides open and a Storm Trooper in silver armor walks in. You tilt your head to the side, and all Taro has to do is sign _Captain_ on his shoulder before you say her full name, trying to conceal the surprise in your voice. “Captain Phasma.”

                Your voice is a bit croaky, and she turns her head to look at you, her expression concealed beneath her helmet. You realized then that you would never, ever get used to people hiding their faces behind masks. You did it all the time while you were interpreting, sure, but they took this to a whole new level.

                “Are you all right?” she asks after a moment’s pause.

                “Yeah,” you croak. You see Taro looking at you strangely, and you quickly point to your throat and rub it slightly, making sure not to touch the scarf in any way.

                _Sick_ , you sign. _Voice weak._ He nods as if he understands, and gestures for Captain Phasma to sit.

                “I’m fine,” you assure her, mimicking the sign for _fine_ against your chest so Taro knows what you’re saying. “Just caught a cold or something.”

                She nods tersely as she steps forward and sits down, taking off her helmet and placing it beside her on the table. She doesn’t look at you, and you’re thankful for that as you begin interpreting. You’re not sure you would have liked the look in her eyes if she had.

                As always, her responses were short and direct. It meant that you had to do a lot less processing of how to sign the things she said, but it also meant that with such rapid fire back and forth exchanges, you didn’t really have time to pay attention to the conversation at hand. That was probably for the best, but you couldn’t help but wonder why Captain Phasma was here again. Would they all have to come back twice? Was there a reason for it?

                Somewhere, in the back of your mind, there was a sneaking suspicion that Captain Phasma had only returned to see you. That was preposterous, of course, unless it meant that Kylo Ren had decided to tell everyone about your Force-sensitive nature. Or maybe he hadn’t told her that much. Maybe he had simply asked her to check up on you? But then again, that didn’t seem like the kind of thing that he would do either.

                You have to ask Taro to repeat himself numerous times, and in the back of your mind you’re starting to get frustrated, not only with your visibly mediocre skills, but also with the realization that you were starting to become self-obsessed. Captain Phasma was here because she was ordered to be here, much like she was the first day. This had absolutely nothing to do with you. You had to stop thinking about you. That was what an interpreter did. They freed themselves from the situation entirely, and focused only on the conversation at hand. Interpreters could only be effective when they focused on everyone around them, not themselves. The sudden fixation that everything was a secret conspiracy that somehow linked back to you was starting to get obsessive, was starting to get in the way of your work, and, quite frankly, you had to cut that shit out, and fast.

                Luckily, you respond to the stern talking to that you gave yourself and are able to execute the rest of the assignment brilliantly. Captain Phasma turns to you and gives you a brief nod when all is said and done before she slips behind her silver helmet and gets up, heading towards the doorway.

                _Voice okay?_ Taro asks you.

                _Yeah_ , you say. _Just have a little bit of headache, sorry._ It’s a lie, a stupid one, but for some reason you need to justify your mediocre performance today on a physical, rather than an emotional, attribute. A headache would fade with time. Heck, it would probably be gone by tomorrow. But whatever was going on here, that was not going to fade. That was not going to go away. So you just had to deal with it the only way you knew how: by pressing it down into that tiny box, deep inside of yourself, and pretending it didn’t exist.

                You stay and talk to Taro for a few minutes before getting up and heading outside. You were usually the last one to leave, and so the group had made a unanimous decision not to wait for you, and to simply meet you in the cafeteria on most days. You hated it, especially on days like today, but you couldn’t really call attention to it without bringing up the fact that you didn’t want to walk around the base alone. If you did, they would ask why, and then you would have to give a reason, and if they didn’t buy it, then you would end up in a whole different heap of trouble than the one you were in now.

                But as you’re walking down the hallway, you can’t help but notice that a Storm Trooper, dressed in their familiar white armor, has fallen into step behind you. You start to pick up the pace a little bit, thinking he was just headed in the same direction as you, but when he starts to pick up his speed to match yours, you realize that something is seriously wrong. You start to panic, and you’re about to break into a full-on sprint when suddenly a silver Storm Trooper steps out from an open door on your right, blocking your path. You stop suddenly and almost crash into her. “Sorry,” you mumble. You notice the Storm Trooper behind you has also stopped.

                “Thank you,” she says over your head, and you realize that you had been led here intentionally. _Oh no. Maybe you weren’t being paranoid after all._ She ushers you inside an empty room, and you walk in, your face paler than that Storm Trooper's armor. Of course Kylo Ren wasn’t going to kill you himself. He would send one of his commanders to do the dirty work for him. You squint your eyes shut and wait for the inevitable blast.

                “Are you all right?” You hear her come around in front of you, and peek open one eye to see her taking off her helmet, setting it down on the table beside her. She makes no move to sit down, and neither do you, although you do notice that there is a small white bag on the table made out of some kind of material you can’t identify. It looks sturdy though, and you can only wonder what could be inside of it.

                “Fine,” you breathe.

                “What happened?” she asks. You shake your head, not understanding the question. “It won’t do you well to play dumb with me.”

                “I’m not playing dumb,” you tell her as best you can through your weak voice. “I’m apparently just really stupid.”

                “Oh come now,” she says, shaking her head. “I have been here a long time. That squeaky voice, that scarf around your neck, it isn’t hard to see that Ren has had his way with you.” You scrunch up your face at the implication, and she takes a moment to realize how that sounded to her own ears. She chuckles quietly to herself. “Sorry, that-”

                “It’s fine,” you tell her quickly, forcing a small smile.

                “Are you all right?” she asks, and you nod your head quickly. “What happened?”

                You’re not quite sure how to respond to this, and so you stall for time by making it look like you’re trying to prepare your voice. “Apparently Kylo Ren has a bit of a temper,” you say eventually. “And I appear to have ran into him when he was in a bit of a mood.”

                She shakes her head, but at least it looks as though she believes you. “I apologize for him. I’ve lost too many men to his raging fits.” You blink at her, your eyes as wide as saucers, but she only laughs. Was she joking? You honestly can’t tell. “Here, take these. It should help.”

                She pushes the bag towards you, and you unzip the lid to find several ice packs contained within, as well as a small bottle of pills tucked away inside a smaller pouch along the side. “Those should help with the pain,” she tells you. “Take them before bed. They'll help you sleep.”

                “Thank you,” you say. Idly, you wonder if it would make you sleep through any more of his late night visits, but you don’t ask. You look at her, as if almost seeing her for the first time. She didn’t have to do this. It was always possible that Ren had told her to give you an ice pack and pills as an apology for what he did, but you seemed to doubt it. This seemed to be an altruistic gesture coming from her and her alone.

                “And if you’re worried about seeing Ren on base, I wouldn’t be,” she says. “He’s gone away on a special assignment for the next two weeks, perhaps longer. You won’t have to worry about seeing him again for quite a while.”

                You hesitate. You expect yourself to be relieved, but for some reason, you’re not. You’re just confused, and you’re confused as to why you’re confused, but you can’t dwell on it here. “That’s good to know,” you say.

                “I wouldn’t volunteer that information,” she says firmly. “But I thought it might be a small comfort.”

                “It is,” you say, pushing a genuine smile to your lips. “Thank you, I mean it.”

                She just nods her head, as though she would have done this for anybody. If what she had said before was true, you suspect she had. “Now, I have something else that might interest you as well.” 

                “Oh?”

                “We do have a training facility aboard the ship,” she tells you. “Three times a week, we have special training sessions in self-defense for the non-essential personnel.” Your insides twist over the word _non-essential_ but you try not to let it show. It was a better word than _expendable_.

                “That’s good to know,” you tell her.

                “I would like you to go,” she says. “Not just because of this incident with Ren, but because we are at war and you never know when a simple self-defense lesson could end up saving your life.”

                “Thanks,” you say. “I would love to go, but uh, I don’t know. I don’t want to call attention to myself, you know?”

                “I understand,” she says. “Please let me know if I can be of any more assistance to you.”

                “Oh, no, this-” you gesture to the bag. “-this, this was more than enough. I don’t know how to repay you for this.”

                She just shakes her head and smiles as she slips her helmet back over her head and disappears out the door. You watch her go without another word. The door shuts behind her, and you turn back to the gift, as if in a daze. _Did that really just happen?_

                Gingerly, you pick up the bag and tuck it under one arm, carrying it swiftly and discreetly back to your room. The First Order may have had a reputation for being evil, but clearly not everyone on board was all bad. Maybe people in the First Order weren’t wicked after all. Maybe they were just conflicted people, perhaps even just confused people, trying to do the best they could for themselves and each other.

                Maybe there was no such thing as evil after all. Maybe there were just two sides, a dark side and a light side, and the fragile balance that existed between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was released so late!! My Internet went down today and I thought the chapter posted, but apparently not. Again, sorry about that!! Chapter 10 should be up at regular time tomorrow. Cheers!!


	10. Chapter 10

                “I have a bit of bad news,” B says at dinner that night.

                “Bad news?” Sadie repeats. You can tell that she’s doing her best to avoid looking at you, but you can read the expression on her face all the same. _What did she do this time?_ You don’t take it personally. Considering what had happened so far on board, it was a fair assumption to assume that you were probably the one behind this piece of bad news as well.   

“Apparently, they would like you all to be trained in self-defense,” B sighs. “After lunch, three times a week, you will be escorted down to a training room for, well, training.” You slowly put down your fork, swallowing a lump of food without chewing. It’s a miracle you don’t choke on it. Kylo Ren wasn’t even on board and you were still dragging everyone into all sorts of trouble.

                “Why?” Ladson asks slowly. He shakes his head like he doesn’t understand.

                “Oh, who knows?” C asks. “We’re in a time of conflict right now. I suppose they want you to be prepared if the worst should happen.”

                “The worst?” Shayne repeats. “Is there something we should know? Like, is the Resistance planning an attack we should know about? Because I want it very clear that we don’t work for the First Order. I don’t want them blowing the place up and taking us out with it.”

                “I sincerely doubt that will be the case,” B says dryly. “And I believe at least some of the sessions are run by Captain Phasma herself.”

                “She didn’t seem too bad,” you mutter, trying to seem nonchalant. You look down at your own plate and force a forkful of food in your mouth, trying to make each movement seem as smooth and as natural as possible. When you look up, you see Sadie watching you. She doesn’t need to say anything. She speaks volumes with her expression.

                _This has something to do with you, doesn’t it?_

You shift your eyes once to the right, once to the left, trying to make the motion seem as inconspicuous as possible. _Maybe._

“I think it sounds kind of cool,” Shayne offers.

                “Couldn’t hurt,” Ladson agrees. Everyone turns to Sadie, waiting for her reaction. She just sighs as she pushes her empty plate away from her.

                “Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice, do I?” she asks.

                “Well, that was easy enough,” B says. “Just, please, don’t hurt yourselves. Remember, we need you to be actively signing for the next few months, so please don’t break any fingers. Or hands. Or wrists. Or arms.”

                “Or just, bones, in general,” C adds.

                That night, you retired to your room in peace. For once, you felt relaxed. Kylo Ren was gone, you were able to take those self-defense classes after all, and if you were reading the situation right, Captain Phasma might just teach you how to break out of a choke hold. You probably couldn’t kick Kylo Ren through his armor with your bare feet, but a knee to the groin here, an elbow to the chest there...you could maybe do some damage, or get him away from you long enough to get help, at least.

                You reach into the bag that Captain Phasma had given you, tucked away in a corner on the bathroom counter. You had no idea what kind of material this was, but it appeared to be insulating, as the three ice packs contained within were all still cool to the touch. You gingerly place one around your neck and then tie a scarf around it to create a makeshift bandage, holding it in place as you flop down onto your bed to read. Again, you can’t focus on the words. Instead, you roll over onto your back and stare at the ceiling, feeling better than you had in ages.

                “I’m going to be okay,” you say. Your voice sounds firm, and for once the ceiling doesn’t appear to be mocking you. Instead, it just gazes back in silent approval.

                Three days later, you and your three comrades were escorted down to the training room. It’s quite a large room, with padded floors, and you immediately remove your socks and shoes at the door as you venture inside, placing yours a little ways apart from everyone else’s. There are about two dozen other people within, and you’re at least grateful that you won’t stick out like a sore thumb. You already do, sort of, as you’re wearing a turtleneck with the collar pulled up to your chin. The material doesn’t exactly lend itself to workout clothes, but at least it’s form-fitting enough to not draw an immense amount of attention your way.

                “Line up,” you hear Captain Phasma yell, and everyone immediately gets into neat rows, stretching the width of the gym. The four of you quickly fall in line behind them, in the far back of the room. Peeking out from behind a tall, dark-skinned man in front of you, you can see Captain Phasma. She doesn’t have any armor on today. Instead, she’s in shorts and a tee shirt that is already soaked through with sweat. It’s so odd to see her without her armor on, and you find yourself staring.

                Sadie catches your eye and picks up her hands. _You have a crush on her or something?_

                You blink as you stare back at her, sticking out your tongue. _Nah, she’s not my type._

 _She’s my type_ , Shayne signs, throwing himself into the conversation. Sadie and you roll your eyes. _What? She’s hot._ For some reason, you can’t imagine Shayne being her type. He was short, a little chubby, and quite frankly, a bit annoying. You can imagine her picking him up and throwing him across the room with one arm. The mental image makes you giggle.

                Immediately the class starts into some kind of rehearsed drill, and you struggle to keep up. It’s not so bad, punching and kicking, but you can’t help but feel as though your form is absolutely terrible. Fortunately, Captain Phasma walks between the rows, correcting people’s posture and making small notes to them as they do the various exercises she commands. She stops by you, and you try to keep your vision centered straight ahead as you kick out in front of you, bending your knees and keeping your arms parallel in front of you to defend your face and chest while you kick. She walks by without comment, and you assume that although you feel like you’re doing something wrong, it was obviously not bad enough to call attention to.

                You glance to the side. You can immediately tell that Sadie is not happy by the way she is half-heartedly punching into the air in front of her, but she steps it up a little bit as Captain Phasma walks by. After repeating the same punching and kicking formation for what seems like an hour, even though it was only a brief ten minute warm-up, Captain Phasma orders you to team up. Sadie shoots you a pleading look, and you walk over to Shayne, who looks just as surprised.

                “Really?” he asks, signing at the same time. You jerk your head over to where Sadie is running over to Ladson and he turns back to you. “Yeah, makes sense. You’re not going to be able to throw me though.”

                “It’s fine,” you tell him. “Just please don’t break my hands. I need them.”

                “Today we’re going to be learning how to get out of a front choke hold,” Phasma says, and it’s all you can do not to roll your eyes.

                “Think we’re ever going to need to know how to do that?” Shayne whispers to you.

                You turn to him and raise your hands in front of your chest, keeping your gestures as small as possible. _You never know._

Still, Captain Phasma sees your movement and her eyes lock on you. “Are you paying attention?”

                Suddenly _all_ eyes are on you, and you shoot a nervous glance at Sadie before turning back to Phasma. “Yes,” you squeak.

                “Good, then you can be my assistant,” she says. “Come here please.”

                You hesitate for a moment before you allow your feet to walk slowly forward across the mats to where she is standing in the middle of the room. All eyes are watching you, and suddenly you remember exactly how you felt when Kylo Ren had been watching you the first day you arrived. _Invisible,_ you had thought then. _I definitely prefer being invisible._

                It was as true then as it was now.

                She waits until you stop in front of her, facing her, before speaking again. “Now if I’m going to attack her-” Suddenly she rushes forward, and before you even have time to blink, you are in the air. Both of her hands are around your neck, and your feet are just barely off the ground. You grab both of her wrists in defense as you lightly kick your feet in the air, trying to get your toes to touch the ground. You just manage to brush them against the top of the mat.  

                Sadie lets out a loud gasp from somewhere off to your right, but Captain Phasma doesn’t pay her any attention. “Now, look at my positioning,” she says to them. She looks at you. “Look at how your hands are on the outside of my arms. Try to pull my hands away.” You do, knowing the sooner you get this over with, the sooner you can be back on your feet again. You grab at her wrists and try to pull her hands away from your throat, but she’s too strong.  

                “See what she’s doing wrong?” she asks. “She’s not strong enough to pull me away. Now, put your hands down.” You do as you’re told. “See, look at my chest. While my hands are here, around her neck, my chest and face are exposed. She can punch me, if she can reach me, and if she does I’ll have no choice but to let go and defend myself. Now, what I want you to do is put your hands on the insides of my arms and push outwards, while kicking at my belt.” She looks at you again. “Do it.”

                Nervously, you make the motions of pushing her arms outwards with your forearms while you slowly move to kick her, not letting your foot actually make contact. She allows you to do it and releases you, and you immediately take a few involuntary steps backwards, one of your legs forward in a short lunge, in a fighting stance. “See what she just did there?” Phasma asks. “That was very good. The first thing she did when I let go was to put some distance between her and her attacker. That’s what you want to do. You want to get them to let go of you, and then get away as fast as possible.”

                “Now-” she gestures for you to come towards her and you do so, awkwardly raising your arms to choke her. But she’s taller than you, she’s much bigger than you, and the whole action seems a bit bizarre. You’re not short by any means, roughly seventy inches, but she still makes you seem diminutive by comparison. 

                She is far less gentle than you were. Swiftly, she pushes your arms out by your sides and kicks you in the abdomen, not as hard as she could have, but hard enough that you still fall backwards, landing painfully on your butt. At least there’s a mat beneath you, otherwise that could have really hurt.

                She reaches down and offers you her hand, and you take it gratefully as she jerks you to your feet. She gestures for you to go stand back by Shayne and you awkwardly make your way over to them, as if in a daze. You felt like you were a ragdoll that had just been thrown around the room.

                “Are you all right?” Sadie whispers in your ear, grabbing your arm. You turn to face her.

 _Think so,_ you sign, making sure to spell out the _s-o_ , and confirming that she caught the distinction. Think so in the positive sense, like, _Yes I think so,_ was signed _think – yes_ ; however, _think s-o_ with the _s-o_ spelled out, had much more of a negative connotation. In other words, _think so_ here meant, _not really._

                So you partner up and do that one drill for the rest of the class. Captain Phasma encouraged everyone to act like they really meant it, and to be honest, you had fun pretending to choke Shayne, even though your fingers couldn’t make it all the way around his thick neck. Honestly, by the looks that Ladson was giving you, he was the one who wished he was choking Shayne instead.

 _Jealous_? you sign to him, eyebrows up, as Shayne gets to his feet. Ladson winks at you in response, and you laugh into the back of your hand.  

                “What is it?” Shayne asks as he turns back around to look at you.

                “Just having fun,” you respond simply. “Come on, do me again.”

                “That’s what she said,” he mutters as he tries to put his hands around your neck, but as soon as he reaches out to you, you push his hands out by his sides and kick him in the abdomen. He staggers backwards, but doesn’t fall this time. “Come on, not so hard.”

                You pout and make the sign for _sorry_ across your chest. He gestures for you to come towards him and you do, wrapping your hands around his neck. He waits a minute, as if he’s still trying to process the motions, before he rhythmically pushes your arms out by your sides and kicks you in the upper thigh.

                “Dude,” you yell at him as you let yourself fall backwards. “Not cool.”

                “Well, I can’t kick that high,” he says awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t have your long legs. And I don’t want to kick you, you know, there.”

                “Fair enough,” you say, and you keep going for a while until you hear a sound that’s halfway between a buzzer and a whistle. Immediately, people start making their way out of the training room, and you take it to mean that the lesson is over. You are just about to head out with everyone else when you hear someone calling your name. You turn around to see Captain Phasma coming towards you.

                “If I might have a moment,” she says, and you nod quickly as she turns to your three companions. “You three can head back upstairs. There’s an escort waiting for you outside.”

                You turn to them and nod quickly, letting them go. You weren’t exactly sure what Captain Phasma wanted to talk to you about, but at least you were pretty sure she wasn’t going to hurt you. She waits until most of the people have cleared the room before she speaks again.

                “You’re weak.”

                You raise your eyebrows in surprise before your face snaps back to its neutral position. It wasn’t an insult so much as an observation. “I’m not really much of a fighter,” you tell her.

                “Punch me,” she says. “As hard as you can.” She holds up one hand, and you look at her face to see if she looks like she’s joking.

                She’s not joking.

                Nervously, you bend your knees slightly and get in what you think is a good stance before you punch her palm with your fist. Pain immediately shoots up your wrist and you jerk your hand away, clutching it to your chest. She looks at you pitifully, as if you’re a kitten that had just run headlong into a doorway. “Try to kick me. Get some force behind it.”

                She lowers her arms and just stands there, and so you move a little closer and try to kick her in the gut, throwing your full force into your leg. You strike her with the heel of your foot and try to push, but she doesn’t budge. The whole scene must have looked honestly rather pathetic to a bystander.

                “I’m weak,” you admit reluctantly as you lower your leg.

                “You need training,” she says. “Wait here.” She walks into another room and then comes back with a small stick in her hand. You look at it curiously. “This is a staff,” she says as she stops in front of you. “Have you ever seen one before?” You shake your head. “Traditionally, they are one solid piece of wood, but I felt that this might be a bit better for you.”

                She holds the small white stick in her hands and twists them in opposite directions. The staff extends, and she puts one end on the floor and lets the staff rise until it’s at the level of your eyebrow. “That’s a good height for you,” she says. She bends down and holds down a button near the base, hidden underneath a small covering. The staff contracts again. “Here,” she says, handing the staff to you. “Press that button, but be careful.”

                You press the button, and the staff immediately snaps open and unfolds itself to the length that she had set it to before. “This is seriously cool,” you say, turning it over in your hands. It’s surprisingly lightweight, but it looks like it could do some serious damage if someone was wielding it correctly.

                “We don’t have a lot of time,” Phasma explains, “but I’m going to teach you something called a four point strike. Stand like this.” She stands with her feet pointing forward, her front knees bent, her back legs straight and her shoulders square. You mimic her pose as best you can. “Bend your knees a little bit – yes, better. Now take the staff and watch me-”

                You mimic her hands with the staff, trying not to smash yourself in the face with it. “Basically,” she explains while you move. “It’s a simple up and down, side to side motion. Make sure all of your strikes hit the same spot. Keep your stance, and make sure to keep your elbows parallel to the ground.”

                “Like this?” you ask. Slowly, you pull the staff onto your shoulder, and pretend to smack someone in the chin with the bottom of the staff. You thrust it forward, as if you’re hitting them in the face, before you sweep the staff out to the side, letting the bottom of the staff strike them across the right cheek. You bring the staff back around the other way, as if it’s smashing the left side of their face, before you bring the staff back to you. 

                “Good,” she says. “Faster.” You try to do it as fast as you can and accidently end up bashing yourself in the shin as it spirals out of your control.

                “Woops,” you say softly, ignoring the throbbing pain in the front of your leg. “I guess I, uh, could use some practice.” She stands up straight, and you take that to mean that this meeting is over. Carefully you press the button so it contracts back to its normal length and offer it to her.

                “Keep it,” she says. “As you just said, you could use the practice.”

                You hesitate, looking her over. “This is First Order equipment,” you tell her. “I can’t take it.”

                “Take it,” she insists. “You never know when you might need that.” Suddenly it dawns on you that she may know more than she’s letting on about Kylo Ren’s interest in you, and you don’t push it any further. She had been helping you every step of the way so far, and if she thought you needed this, then you should probably take it.

                "How am I going to get it back to my room?” you ask. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to just go walking around the ship with this.”

                She takes a few steps towards you until she’s standing directly in front of you. “Lift up your shirt.” Confused, you pull up the hem of your shirt and she steps forward, pulling open the waistband of your pants as she tucks the staff inside. You quickly bite back a yelp of surprise as her fingers touch your skin, but suppress it as she pulls the shirt down over the staff. She gives you a minute to collect yourself, and you quickly pull the staff closer to your left side so that you can catch it with your arm in case it happened to slip.

                You study yourself, pleased to see that the bulge of the staff is easily concealed by your clothes, as long as you kept your left arm close to your side. “Good idea.”

                “Run along,” she says. “There’s an escort ready to take you back to your quarters.”

                “Thank you.” You look her squarely in the eye to let her know that you mean it before you turn and scurry out of the gym, wanting to return to your room as fast as possible to deposit your new treasure. There is a Storm Trooper waiting outside, and you gesture for him to go ahead as you march along behind him up to your room. Once inside, you quickly tuck it away in a drawer where no one would think of looking and join the others in the living room.

                “Well, look who’s finally back,” Shayne says as you walk in. He is just putting dinner down on the table.

                “What’d she want to talk to you about?” B asks.

                “She just wanted to thank me for being her volunteer earlier,” you tell him. “She caught me signing with Shayne and so she called me up for a demonstration-”

                “We told him,” Sadie says. “She picked you up by your neck. You were _off the floor_. I thought she was going to kill you.”

                “She apologized for that,” you tell them. “She said she didn’t mean to scare me. I told her it was okay. I mean, it was for training, she wasn’t _actually_ trying to kill me.” You shrug, and they seem to accept this explanation. In all honesty, it hadn’t been a bad one. Idly you remember when you had mentally called Sadie out for being a fantastic liar; either she was learning from you or you were learning from her or you were just bouncing off each other. You couldn’t be sure.

                Either way, talk of your training at least livened up the conversation for a little bit as you ate dinner, and you were pleased that there was something new to talk about. B seemed cautious of the whole affair, but seemed to relax when you told him how many other people were in attendance. It seemed he was happy to know that there were other members of the crew getting this training as well, and you weren’t being singled out for anything.

                Later that night, you return to your room early, citing the excuse of a shower and a change before you pull open a drawer and pull out your staff. Your room isn’t that big, but you do have just enough space to be able to practice without knocking anything down. Slowly, you move the staff in slow motions, just trying to get the form right. It’s a bit annoying; honestly, you just wanted to grab the staff and start spinning it around your head, but you knew you had to get your form right before anything else. So you make a promise to yourself: a solid half hour of slow practice, and _then_ you could play with it.

                The half hour goes by ridiculously slowly, but you do feel as though you’ve picked up the pace quite a bit. Gently, you hold the staff out in both hands. You put one hand on the staff facing down, and your other hand on the staff facing up, the way Phasma had shown you, and hold the staff in front of you at an angle as you step forward on one foot, as if you were getting ready to fight. You hold the pose for a minute, mentally picturing yourself as a badass warrior who could take out anything in her way. Fueled by mental confidence, you raise the staff and spin it slowly in front of you, taking it hand over hand. It’s heavier than you thought and so you can’t spin it as fast as you would like, but you don’t drop it, and you don’t hurt yourself with it, so that was a plus. Eventually you get bored of just spinning it and try a few attacks, jumping in the air and slashing out in front of you, or pretending to jab it into an unseen assailant’s chest. It’s actually _fun,_ pretending to strike and block hidden opponents coming at you from all sides, and you’re almost sweating by the time you stow the staff back in your drawer and crawl into bed.

 _Maybe being here isn’t so bad after all,_ you thought to yourself as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

                Over the next few weeks, everything seemed to fall into a comfortable rhythm. For one, you seemed happier, and no one called you out on your bruises. Thanks to the pills Captain Phasma had given you, and the ice packs, they faded quicker than you would have expected they would. Honestly, after the first ten days, the bruising looked no worse than just a bad rash. Still, you kept the scarves on, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. They just seemed to assimilate themselves into part of your wardrobe now, and you didn’t want anyone to question it.

                The atmosphere between everyone seemed lighter too. B and C had mentioned that they hadn’t had to put up with Kylo Ren’s antics for quite a while now, and guessed that he had been banned from their meetings. You didn’t tell them that he wasn’t even on base. No, that was strictly privileged information, and you didn’t need to bring him up at all. His name hadn’t been mentioned, not even by Shayne, who seemed to drop his whole line of questioning. The self-defense lessons had been a much-needed stress relief and a hot topic of conversation, and even though you soon learned that Captain Phasma’s attendance to these were rare, her replacement, a stern man with a bald head, wasn’t all that bad. You hadn’t bothered to learn his name, but you supposed you didn’t really need to.

                Even things with Taro seemed to get better. You went back to your work more focused than ever, and completely zoned out throughout the duration of the meetings. With Kylo Ren gone, you weren’t really in danger. It didn’t matter if they were talking about blasters or flowers, you didn’t give a damn what they were talking about: none of it had anything to do with you. You were back in your role as a neutral entity, finally doing the job you came here to do. Not only did your performance improve, but you and Taro felt comfortable enough to joke about before and after assignments more often than you usually did. It was almost as if a dark veil had been lifted, and everyone was finally free of the troubles that had plagued them.

                And, of course, every night you would retire to your room and play with your staff. It was a fantastic thing, truly, to keep you entertained for hours on end. You tried spinning it above your head, and even though it was heavy enough to make your arms grow tired, you did it again and again, timing yourself each night to make sure you could hold out for longer and longer periods, mentally knowing that your muscles were getting stronger even if you didn’t really see any increased definition in your arms. You could spin the staff faster now, and you could even do the four point strike with as much force as you could muster. If there was an assailant standing in front of you, you could be sure that he would be on his knees after the lashing you had just given him.

                Yes, everything seemed to be going well. In fact, you had just settled into bed for the night, your face settled in a gentle, relaxed grin, when you heard a knock on the door. And it wasn’t coming from the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I'm sure we can all guess who that is!! ;) So it's no secret that I'm passionate about linguistics, so I decided to work another one of my passions into this story: martial arts. I've been trained in Tae Kwon Doe for several years (green belt, blue stripe), although for the past two years I have been obsessed with my bo staff. If any of you watch The Walking Dead, you've seen Morgan's staff in action and it. is. awesome. He learned under Steven Ho, who's the fight double for Donatello in the TMNT movies. Literally, I could talk about my staff for hours on end, so if you're interested or have questions, feel free to drop a comment or swing by my Tumblr under the same name, streetsolo. Until tomorrow, cheers!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW content ahead

                The impatient knock comes again, and your eyes go wide as you slip out of bed. You hadn’t been expecting a visit from Kylo Ren for a long while yet, if ever. As the weeks went by, you had almost thought that he might stay away for good. You are again only half-dressed in boy shorts and a tank top as you reluctantly slide open the door. For some reason, ignoring it and hoping he goes away isn’t even an option. You look him up and down and then step back to allow him room to enter, not daring to turn your back on him. He closes the door behind him and you take a few deep breaths in and out as he turns around to face you.

                You stare at each other for a long time, neither of you knowing quite what to say. He doesn’t seem as intimidating as the last time he was here, but that may just be because you hadn’t seen him in a while. So why was he here? You figured that if he had come here to kill you that he would have done it by now. It’s hard to say for sure; his expression underneath the mask is still hidden from you. Maybe he was just working up the nerve. It was probably easy to kill a soldier on a battlefield, you thought, but it was something else to kill a defenseless girl in her pajamas. Then again, you had never taken a life. Maybe if you took enough you stopped keeping track, and it became as commonplace as squashing bugs.

                Eventually, he is the first to break the silence. “You’re different.” The voice distortion makes his voice seem as low and as gravelly as ever.

                “I’m not different,” you tell him, keeping your voice level. “I’m just not afraid.”

                “Good.” Suddenly, to your surprise, he unlocks the mechanism at the base of his helmet and slides it over his head, bending down slightly to place it on the floor beside him. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.” His face looks the same as ever, but his voice is softer and there’s something different in his eyes. They look bigger, almost sympathetic.

                You brush your hair away from your neck, and watch with apathetic amusement as his eyes slide down your face to your throat. There’s still a few red marks, although it’s nothing compared to what it was a few weeks ago. Even still, he shuffles from foot to foot as he stands there awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. Was he feeling guilty? Embarrassed? Apologetic? You couldn’t imagine he would be, and yet his body language was a dead giveaway.

                “Still a little red,” you tell him. “But it’s gotten better. Give it another week or so and it might be completely healed up by then.”

                He immediately looks away from you and sulks. He looks guilty, and you’d be damned if you didn’t admit that you were enjoying it at least a little bit.

                “But I bet that’s why it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” you ask. “Waited for the bruising to go down before coming back to give it another go?”

                This gets his attention. He swings his head back around to look at you as he narrows his eyes. “I’ve been away.”

                “Have you?” you ask. His brow furrows for a moment, as if he sees right through you, and for a moment you’re afraid that he can. You don’t want to get Captain Phasma in trouble, especially not after she was so kind to you, and you decide to push him a little further. “Do I at least get an apology for the last time?”

                “I’m sorry,” he says petulantly. He crosses his arms over his chest and steps back, as if to put more space between you. Seeing him standing there, sulking like a child in his full body armor, makes him look absolutely ridiculous. He turns to look at you again. “I didn’t mean to take it that far. I got carried away. I only did it because I thought that I could get in if you were weak enough.”

                “Well, as long as the ends justify the means,” you say dryly. He glares at you, and you glare right back. “Should we just get to it then?” You jut your chin out, giving him full exposure to your neck. “I’m ready.”

                The expression on his face is cold, and yet his eyes look indecisive, like he can’t quite make up his mind about something. “What do you want?”

                Your head snaps back down instantly. “What do I want? You’re the one who came here. You’re the one who wants answers from me.”

                He shakes his head as he looks down at the floor and drags a hand through his hair in an exasperated manner. You tilt your head to the side and watch him, bemused. For once, you didn’t think he was going to hurt you. Actually, at this point, it seemed like you stood a greater chance of hurting him. Good thing you had just learned how to take the heel of your palm and smash it into someone’s nose in your last self-defense class. His helmet was off, and it seemed like his face was the weakest part of him right now. If he decided to attack you again, you would defend yourself, but you were not going to be the one to strike first.

                He comes at you suddenly, taking two quick strides to close the distance between you. He is directly in front of you now, but you had been confronted with people rushing towards your face so many times in self-defense class that you don’t even flinch. You don’t pull away. You just stand there and keep your eyes locked on his. A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, but you keep your face composed in cautious ambivalence. “You’re really not afraid,” he says in a soft murmur, as if he’s impressed.

                “No,” you reply. He runs his fingertips down your cheek, letting them trail down to the bruises on your neck. You lift your chin up again to give him easy access, but he doesn’t stop there. He runs his fingers down your neck, down your chest, and over the swell of your breast before his hand drops back to his side again. You keep your eyes locked on his, desperately willing yourself not to flinch or pull away. You weren’t going to back down this time. You were stronger than he was. For whatever reason, right now, you were stronger.

                His face is so close to your own; you can see every freckle, every blemish, every spot of imperfection. “Are you trying to read my mind right now?” You had meant for it to sound as casual as possible, but instead it surprises you to hear that your own voice is lower, like you had just offered him a challenge. There was something else in your voice too, something you recognized immediately, even though you were hoping that he wouldn’t.

                “I can,” he replies, and his voice is so soft and so quiet you can barely be sure you heard him. But you did. Your bottom lip twitches as your eyes flash with surprise. “But only because you’re dropping your guard.”

                “Have at it then,” you whisper, your breath catching in your throat. “If this is so important to you, then have at it. I have nothing to hide.”

                “You’re still too tense,” he whispers. He places his hands on your bare shoulders and runs his fingertips down your arms. You can feel desire starting to pool hot and thick inside of you, and you let your eyes close, even though it’s only for a moment. But it happened. It’s already done. Whether he really can read your mind or not, your weakness has already been revealed. The contract has already been signed; your fate has already been sealed. In two seconds you’re about to become undone. “You need a distraction.”

                “Distract me then.”

                His lips are on yours within a second, and you wrap your arms around his neck, hands fisting in his hair as you pull him closer to you. You can feel gloved hands on either side of your face and you part your lips to give him better access as he devours you with fervent, hungry kisses. You push yourself onto your tip toes to give yourself better reach as his hands wrap around you, dragging his fingers down your back. You cup his cheek in one palm as you press your lips back against his, gently bumping his nose with yours as you change angles. He lets out a sharp exhale as you gently nip at his lower lip with your teeth and you can’t help but exhale a soft growl from the back of your throat as you tease him.

                He pulls away slightly, as if he’s surprised, but keeps his hands firmly planted on your waist. You push yourself against him to kiss him again, but for some reason he seems unfocused, less sure of himself than he did before. Your kisses become gentle and soft as you brush your lips against his before you pull away completely and he lets go of your waist. You’re about to ask him if you’re distracted enough when he turns around sharply and grabs his helmet off the floor. He’s out the door without another glance back.

                You stand in the middle of the room, with the door hanging wide open, fingertips pressed against your swollen lips. _That did just happen, right?_ You give it a minute to see if he comes back, but he doesn’t, and you quickly shut the door before a Storm Trooper on patrol walks by and sees you. You pace back and forth in front of the bed, unsure of what had just happened. He had seemed so sure of himself at first, teasing you, kissing you, and then when you had really engaged him, he had pulled away. Was he trying to manipulate you? Was it no longer a game if you were playing along? You blink at the implication. Was it no longer a game he wanted to play if _you_ were the one manipulating _him?_

                Is that what you had done though? You sit on the end of your bed and curl your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs. What the hell were you even thinking, anyway? The last time you had seen him, he had his hands around your neck as he choked you, and now he had his hands around your waist as he kissed you. It didn’t make any sense. Well, it made sense from his bizarre perspective, if he was really intent on getting into your head by _any_ means necessary. What didn’t make sense was why you decided to kiss him back.

                You weren’t like Sadie. Physical intimacy wasn’t really something you _craved_ , and yet there was a moment there while you were kissing him that you were prepared to let him go as far as he wanted to with you. But why? Was it the Force at work? Was it the Force that spawned this strange attraction to him? And if that was the case, did that mean you had to admit that you were attracted to him, or could you keep yourself in denial for at least a short while longer?

                Slowly, you lower your feet to the floor and cross your arms over your chest. As much as you hated to admit it, you didn’t want him to go. You wanted him to come back. You wanted him to still be kissing you, although you weren’t sure if it was because you wanted to actually be kissing him, or if it was because you wanted answers. Why did he kiss you? Was it simply a means to get in your head, or was there another self-serving motive behind it? You get up and pull your staff out of the drawer before sitting back down on the edge of the bed again. You extend it and turn it over and over in your hands, slowly, trying to give yourself something to do, something to focus on. Your shorts feel uncomfortably _wet_ , but you’re not in any mood to clean yourself up just yet. An hour goes by before you come to the unfortunate realization that he is not coming back, and you head into the bathroom, change your shorts, and head back to bed. Surprisingly, sleep embraces you instantly.

 

                As soon as you open your eyes, you expect to be in a bitter, foul mood, but you’re not. Your first instinct is that you should feel jilted, but you can’t when last night seems like nothing more than a bizarre dream. Aside from the stain on the inseam of your shorts that you find on the floor the next morning, there was no evidence that he had ever really even been there at all. You decide to take a quick shower before heading into the kitchen and joining the others for breakfast.

                “Someone slept in this morning,” Sadie teases as you walk inside. “B and C already left.”

                You just shrug as you pour yourself a bowl of cereal. “Well, you know me, I’m either the first one here or the last.”

                “No, usually I’m the first one here,” Ladson says from his spot on the counter. He has a book open in front of him, but he doesn’t appear to be reading it.

                “Except when you’re not,” you tease him. He smirks at you before looking back down at his book, and Sadie narrows her eyes at you. You take a hint that that isn’t going well, but there’s nothing you can really do about it. You’re not interested in Ladson, and you’re pretty sure he’s not interested in you. You could always tell her that you made out with Kylo Ren last night to assuage her fears, but something tells you that would do more harm than good right now.

                Fortunately, there doesn’t seem to be much conversation this morning, and you eat your breakfast in silence before you head down to your meeting. Taro is there early, and you have some time to chat before your assignment. As you sit down in your chair, he raps his knuckles against his chin twice and asks you what’s wrong.

                _Wrong?_ you ask, repeating his sign. You pinch your middle finger to your thumb and wave one hand lazily in the air in front of you. _Nothing._

He narrows his eyes at you and cuts a vertical line through the air with his finger down the left side of his face, too lazy to even initialize his name.

“No,” you say to him. You don’t even sign it. “No, it’s….no.” You continue shaking your head as a grin splits across your face, and you’re suddenly aware that you might be blushing. He stares at you silently and waits for you to get a hold of yourself. You look back up at him, waiting for him to respond, but he just raises his eyebrows expectantly.

_What? It’s nothing._

                Stare.

_Taro, it’s seriously nothing._

Stare.

                _NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING_

He tilts his head to the side and doesn’t say anything.

                You sigh and put your hand by your forehead, dragging out the sign for _boy._

                He seems to smile as he moves an L-handshape to his forehead.

                “Ladson?” you ask. “No, oh-”

                He rolls his eyes. He doesn’t even need to sign anything more, but he does anyway. He raises a finger to his mouth as he makes a circle in the air in the direction of his face. _Who?_ But you put two and two together with the expression on his face and make the connection to what he’s really asking. _Who else?_ As in, _who else would it be?_

That was fair. You had _mildly_ complained about Shayne numerous times, and aside from B and C, who were already a couple, there were no other guys you knew on base, aside from public enemy number one, and there was no way you could tell Taro about that. He would think you’ve gone insane.

                You snap your hands to your chest with a resounding thunk as you sign _accept._ Fine. Ladson. He could take the fall for this. It wasn’t as if Taro was going to confront him about it anyway.

                He crosses his arms over his chest and wiggles his fingers in the air. _Waiting._

                You snort a laugh through your nose and it comes out as an obnoxious grunt. The bastard was going to have the nerve to ask for details? Fine, he could have all the details he wanted. _He kissed me and then ran away. I don’t think it’ll happen again._

                He runs the back of his hand over his cheek and then drums his flat hands against his knees. _Shy, maybe? Nervous?_

                You pinch your hand in front of your face before casting it away, making sure to produce the motion as forcefully as possible. _Don’t. Care._

                Taro holds a single, outstretched finger in front of his mouth before he thrusts it outwards. _Sure._

                You huff again, crossing your arms over your chest. You’re about to argue with him when the door slides open and a Storm Trooper walks in. You do your best to sit up straight and look professional, but Taro casts you one friendly wink before you begin the meeting. Well, at least you had him fooled. 

                Even still, you don’t look at Ladson that night at dinner. For some reason, though, he keeps looking at you, and Sadie keeps throwing angry glances in your direction. That was something you really didn’t want to get in the middle of. You were already involved in a bizarre romantic entanglement of your own; you had no desire to get pulled into the middle of theirs.

                That night, you dress in your usual pajamas. Kylo Ren had never come by two nights in a row before, and so you doubted that he would come back again. You played with your staff, idly turning it around and around in your hands and practicing your form before you tucked yourself into bed. You had actually already drifted off to sleep before you awoke to a knocking at your door, which was louder than usual. Rubbing sleep away from your eyes, you got up quickly to open it, before the knocking turned into a pounding that woke up the whole apartment.

                You open the door and are about to scold him for being so loud, but you don’t get the chance. His hands are at your face and he pushes you inside as he shuts the door behind him with his foot. In an instant, he's pushing you backwards as he presses his lips against yours. You kiss him back, half asleep, hands planted on his upper arms. You’re almost too tired to keep going when he suddenly picks you up and pushes you against the wall, pinning you there with his hips as he bows his head down to kiss your neck.

                You throw your head back against the wall, ignoring the sudden burst of pain as he nips and sucks at your neck, one hand teasing your breast playfully through your shirt. One hand dangling limply at your side, you fist the other one in his hair as you moan and roll your hips in small, rhythmic thrusts. He bites down, and you feel a sudden burst of suction against your collarbone. You realize that it’s going to leave a mark immediately, but it’s nowhere near as bad as the bruises he had left weeks ago. His lips find their way back to yours as he kisses you, urgently, and as he cups your face in his hands, you realize he’s not wearing gloves. In fact, you realize that he doesn’t even have his helmet with him. He’s not wearing his signature armor, either. He’s still wearing all black, and it’s hard to tell with the lights out, but the material under your hands is soft and for a moment you wonder if he’s only wearing what he would probably call his pajamas.

                You kiss him back, matching his fervor now, and you place your hands on either side of his head, fingertips against his temple, and try to focus without letting it seem too obvious what you’re doing.

 _I missed you_.

                You feel his hand move down to your hips and he grips you with such intensity that you’re sure you’re going to have a bruise down there tomorrow.

 _I was craving you_.

                He bites down on your lip, a little bit more painfully than just a playful nip, and you gasp into his open mouth.

_I need you._

                He presses himself against you, and you can feel how badly he wants you as his tongue juts out and runs along that sensitive spot where your jawbone meets your neck.

                You’re not sure if you’re actually reading his mind, or simply his body language, but you’re too tired to actually lose yourself in him right now. Your body is responding to him, but your mind is doing the exact opposite. Instead of giving in, it seems to lock itself in an analytical, detached perspective, giving you constant second-by-second updates on his body language and what it means, grading the urgency of his caresses on a scale, as if a mathematical solution and a technical formula would give you an answer as to why he was doing this.

                He seems to sense your reluctance, and his hand grasps you firmly over the lining of your shorts, his fingertips skimming over the wet spot that had collected there. He breaks the kiss suddenly to grin at you, his white teeth glinting in the dim light as he slowly moves his thumb in a circular motion to tease your clit over the thin material. You bite your lip and push your hips into his hand, desperate for more contact, but suddenly you just can’t bring yourself to keep going.

                “Why are you doing this?” you whisper. The words are out of your mouth before you realize you’ve said them. His eyes jerk up to your face and he studies your expression in the dim light.

                “Don’t you like this?” he asks. You can tell he’s trying to sound aloof, but there’s something else in his voice, an anxious fear of rejection.

                “I do,” you breathe, because in all honesty, you want him to keep going, but… “But aren’t you supposed to be trying to get inside my head?”

                “Who says I’m not already?” he asks, and you blink at him, confused, because he’s not. You can tell he’s not. He tried before, and you knew what it felt like. This was not him trying. And if he wasn’t trying to get in your head, then that meant he was here because…

                He seems to follow your train of thought, and suddenly a look of anger flashes across his features as his face contorts with rage. He raises his hand as if to hit you before he suddenly thinks better of it, pushing himself away from you. He’s heading towards the door, and before you realize what you’re doing, you latch onto his arm, pulling on his sleeve to keep him there.

                “No, Kylo, don’t leave-” He spins around to face you, and for a moment you think you’re going to get choked again, but nope, in a split second you’re back against the wall and he’s grabbing you and kissing you, but there’s a recklessness in the way he handles you, as if you were merely a thing to be used. Incensed by his mercuriality, you break the kiss and move your lips to the soft spot where his neck meets his collar bone and graze it with your teeth before you start sucking, applying as much force as he had used on you. He grabs a fistful of your hair and curses under his breath but you keep going, digging your fingertips into his back as you bite and suck at his neck, trying to be as vicious with him as he is being with you. You can hear him literally growl and you ease up slightly, tracing your tongue in small circles along his sensitive skin as you drag your bottom lip along his neck. You can just barely taste a hint of salt against your lip, and as you lick it with your tongue you realize that you’ve drawn blood. _Woops._

                You start to pull away again. He senses this and immediately pushes his hand inside your waistband, thrusting a finger inside of you. You cry out and he immediately covers your mouth with his other hand. You lick and suck at his palm, and he quickly thrusts two fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet as he rapidly moves his middle finger in and out of you, occasionally rubbing your clit with his thumb. You moan and nip at the tender pads of his fingertips as you lick them, thrusting your hips against his hand as you feel yourself getting closer. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth as he kisses you, pressing his open mouth against yours, and you plant one hand on the nape of his neck, twisting your fingers through his hair as the other grabs a fistful of fabric over his shoulder. Your toes clench and unclench as you break the kiss suddenly, resting your head against his shoulder as you kiss and lick at his neck while you climax. You feel lightheaded, and you are right there, _right there_ when suddenly his fingers pull out of you and he steps away, like he suddenly has no idea what he’s doing. He glances over his shoulder towards the doorway, as if he’s considering making a break for it. _Was he really going to run away?_

                “Don’t you dare.” Your voice comes out as a vicious growl, and his eyes widen in surprise as he turns back to look at you. “Don’t you dare fucking leave, Kylo. Fucking-”

                He pushes you up against the wall for a third time, and his hand dips back into your pants as he plunges two fingers in and out of you as fast as possible. You grab fistfuls of his shirt in both hands as you bury your forehead against his shoulder and grunt as you will yourself to come as quickly as possible, before he changes his mind again. But you were already so close and you concentrate on the sensation of his fingers pulsing in and out of you, the gentle brush of his thumb against your tender clit, and you let it take you over the edge. You come around his fingers, and he stills with them still inside of you, letting you ride out the sensation. You are breathing heavily against his chest when he finally pulls his fingers out of you. He turns his head as far to the side as possible as he puts his fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean, as if he doesn’t want you to see him savoring the taste of your juices. When he finally looks back towards you, you pull him close and place a chaste kiss on his lips.

                “Thank you.” You’re not sure why you said it, but it suddenly seemed like such a stupid fucking thing to say. Why were you thanking him for this? Five minutes ago, he was ready to leave you here, dripping and aching for him, with absolutely no release. You didn’t need to thank him for that, and yet he looked so shy, so unsure of himself, it was like you wanted to comfort him in some way. The situation made absolutely no sense at all.

                He takes another step back and stares at you for a moment, like he still doesn’t know what to do or what to say. You don’t either, not really, but he looks much more flummoxed by it, as he turns around and makes his way out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

                You stand there, raking in deep breaths of air, before stripping off your shorts and walking into the bathroom, squinting under the bright fluorescent lights and collapsing on the edge of the toilet as you clean the sticky mess between your legs. _What the fuck was that?_ There were so many emotions going through your head right now, so many thoughts, that you can’t keep them all straight. Your chest suddenly feels heavy, and you pull in two deep breaths, one after the other. _Oh no_. Your shoulders shake as if racked by a sudden sob, and you shake your head from side to side as your eyes begin to well with tears. _No no no don’t do that. Don’t cry. No, don’t you fucking cry. Don’t you dare._ But you do all the same, biting into the knuckle on your left hand to keep from crying out. You brush your hair back and out of your face, pulling it over your left shoulder as you nervously ran your fingers through the tangles.

                You stand up quickly and get a good look at yourself in the mirror, but your red-rimmed eyes only make you feel worse as you watch a tear squeeze out of the corner of your eye and slide down your cheek. _No._ You sit back down on the toilet seat and hold your head between your hands, rocking back and forth. There were so many thoughts flowing through your mind that you couldn’t focus on any one thing, but you could clearly identify the strongest emotion underneath it all: an overwhelming sense of confusion.

                “I can’t do this,” you whisper to yourself. “I can’t fucking do this.”

                It’s now or never. You get up immediately and walk into your room, pulling on a clean pair of pants. You double-check to make sure the door to your room is locked before you head out into the darkness of the living room and take a good look at the closed doors all around you. _It’s now or never._ You take a deep breath, walk up to one of the doors, and knock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...............welp!! We got our first taste of smut!! I would really appreciate it if you left a comment and let me know how you felt about it: I know everyone has different comfort levels and I don't want anyone to be uncomfortable if it was too graphic or anything. You can also leave anonymous feedback on my Tumblr, streetsolo. (Just don't send me hate, please! xD) No spoilers, but there "might" be more smut in the future, so it helps if I have some idea about how graphic I should write it. ;) Until tomorrow, cheers!!


	12. Chapter 12

                You can hear a muffled groan from behind the door. You knock again, rapping your knuckles urgently against the wood, trying to be firm, but not wanting to wake up the entire apartment, either. The door opens up a crack, and then opens completely, and you see Sadie standing in front of you, brandishing a shoe out in front of her as a weapon.

                “What the hell is that?” you ask, doing everything you can to keep your voice as low as possible.

                “I thought you might be Kylo Ren,” she whispers back as she puts the shoe down. You push past her and shut the door behind you.

                “Kylo Ren?” you repeat incredulously. “Why would Kylo Ren be knocking on your door from inside our living room?”

                “I don’t know,” she hisses. “Maybe he can use the Force to teleport or something.”

                “Teleport?” you ask as she goes over to flip on the lights. “The Force doesn’t work like that.”

                “Well I don’t know how the Force works.” Sadie flicks on the lights and her hand immediately goes to her mouth when she sees you. Honestly, you had gotten so used to seeing the bruises on your own neck that whatever was there was nothing new by comparison. “Are you bleeding?”

                “Am I?” you ask. Your tone could not sound more apathetic if you tried.

                “Are you those bite marks?” Sadie hisses, coming around to get a better look at you. “What happened?”

                “I think it’s pretty obvious what happened,” you say, gesturing to the marks. She touches the side of your shoulder gingerly for a moment, observing the damage, before she slaps you upside the head.

                “The fuck-” You quickly bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from crying out, and immediately flinch as a burst of pain shoots through your mouth. “What the fuck is your problem?”

                “Seriously?” she demands. “You knew how I felt about him. Why-?”

                “Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You take a step forward, as if you’re about to hit her back, and she lifts up her arms defensively. _Calm down. You’re not Kylo Ren. You’re better than that._ You let out a deep breath as you lower your hands to your sides. “I didn’t fuck Ladson.”

                “Then who did you-?” Sadie asks, and her eyes go wide with the realization.

                “It didn’t go that far,” you say quickly, but Sadie has both hands clasped firmly over her mouth now, as if she’s about to scream. “Seriously, do not have a panic attack right here because _I_ am the one that needs _you_ right now.”

                “After what he did to you?” she asks. She sits down on the edge of her bed and stares up at you in shock. “How could you-?”

                “It’s complicated,” you say, but your voice trembles, betraying you. “I just need help, okay? I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

                “Sit down,” Sadie says, and you sit beside her, resting your cheek against her shoulder as she smooths down your hair. It’s not really a comfortable position and so you soon sit up and pull yourself into a cross-legged position, facing her. “Did he force you into something?”

                “No,” you shake your head. “No, he had kissed me before, last night, and ran away. Like, literally, I’m telling you, he _ran_. And then tonight he came back and he just started kissing me and I-” you shake your head. “-and it was so weird because I was, we were, um, you know, he was-” you make an up and down gesture with your hand, fingers up, and she nods quickly in understanding. “-and then I was really close and he just started to walk away. And I was like, what the fuck? So I snapped at him, and he finished, well _I_ finished, and then he….he ran away again.”

                “What is his problem?” she asks, and you bite down on your knuckle again to control a spontaneous burst of laughter that has risen out of your chest. It’s not really that funny, but you can’t help yourself right now.

                “I have no idea,” you whisper. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

                “Was he trying to distract you?” she asks. “To get into your head? Like, maybe if pain didn’t work, maybe if you were turned on-”

                “That’s what I thought at first too,” you tell her. “He said last night he could read my mind, but I’m pretty sure he was just bluffing because he said he could tonight too, but he wasn’t even trying. I could tell; he wasn’t trying at all.”

                “Let’s break this down,” Sadie says quickly. “Last night he kissed you and then he ran away, right?” You nod. “And just now you started to get intimate with him and he freaked out, right?” You nod again. “Isn’t it obvious?”

                “I might have a little trouble seeing the situation objectively here,” you say dryly. “Please, enlighten me?”

                “He likes you,” Sadie whispers. For some reason, even though it’s completely obvious, the idea is unfathomable to you.

                “No,” you whisper. “No, Sadie-”

                “Come on,” she whispers. “He’s acting like a scared little boy with a crush. He has no idea what he wants.” She looks you up and down. “Although it appears that you obviously do.”

                “Shut up,” you hiss at her. “Why does he like me, like, why? I don’t understand. Is it because of the Force? Because he’s trying to get inside my head? Does that make me, like, some sort of a challenge? Like that makes me interesting enough to capture his special attention?”

                You’re starting to tremble, and Sadie puts a hand on your arm. “Like come on,” you say. “I’m not stupid. I’m rough and cynical and sarcastic. I’m not people’s usual type, especially when I hang around with you all the time.”

                Sadie says your name and rolls her eyes, but you keep going. “No, it’s true. People don’t usually notice me. I’m like a chair or, or a lamp. People notice that I’m gone when they want to sit down or turn on the light, but they never notice me when I’m _there._ I’m just a part of the room; it’s why I make such a great interpreter, I’m already half invisible.” You sniff. “So with this Force thing, I’m suddenly interesting now? I’m suddenly-?”

                “Okay, cut the bullshit and stop being so dramatic,” Sadie snaps. “Everyone gets self-esteem issues from time to time, but right now this isn’t you talking. Right now you’re just freaking out and trying to psyche yourself out. Just take a deep breath and calm down.”

                “Why does he like me then?” you whisper to her. “Is he attracted to me? Or is he only doing this because he’s trying to get into my head?”

                “I have no idea,” she says. “I haven’t exactly been there during your late night chats to see how he acts around you.”

                “He doesn’t like me,” you say suddenly, shaking your head. “He can’t, he-”

                “Why can’t he like you?” Sadie asks, rolling her eyes again. “Because you’re you?”

                “No, because he’s him,” you tell her. “Because he’s _Kylo_ fucking _Ren,_ Sadie _._ You heard all the stories that B and C have told us about him.”

                She furrows her brow in confusion like she doesn’t understand. “Bad people still have feelings, don’t they?” You shake your head like you’re not sure, and she puts a hand on your shoulder. “Evil people can still be tempted by love. It may not be pure or, or selfless. It may be intense, and crazy, and obsessive, and passionate, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t love.”

                You scoff at her. Now _she_ was the one being dramatic. “This isn’t a story from one of those stupid books you read all the time. This isn’t some romance novel where _love_ is going to compel him to wake up and see the error of his ways. He’s not going to change how he acts just because-” you can’t bring yourself to say it. “-of me.”

                “But hasn’t he done that already?” she asks. “I doubt you would have gone ahead and done anything with him if he was such a brute to you.”

                You shake your head. “So first we’re debating whether or not he actually _likes_ me, and now you think he’s in love with me?”

                “No,” Sadie says quickly, shaking her head. “Oh, hell no. No, I don’t think it’s love. He probably does have lusty feelings for you though, and he’s probably embarrassed by them, at least by the sound of it.”

                “So what do I do?” you ask.

                “Well, how do you feel about him?” Sadie asks, and you give yourself a minute to search yourself.

                “Confused,” you answer at last. “And not just because of what he did to me before. I mean, yes, okay, he’s actually pretty hot, but like, where is this going?”

                “Does this have to go anywhere?” Sadie asks. “If I know you at all, I’d say you’re only doing this for your own survival.” You open your mouth to speak, but she keeps talking. “No, think about it. You want him to stay quiet about this whole Force thing, right? So he comes over, you give him a happy and he stays, well, happy.” She shrugs. “He doesn’t tell anyone about you, and you’re in the clear. You only wish that there were feelings involved because then that makes him less of an asshole and doesn’t make the situation as bad for you.”

                You consider what she’s saying. “So what, we’re enemies with benefits then? Now he’s trading my safety for something else? He doesn’t want to get in my head anymore, now he just wants to get into my pants?”

                “I guess?” Sadie asks. “Again, I’m not there. I haven’t ever really met the guy. I’ve seen scary Kylo Ren, but obviously he’s not the same guy who sneaks into your room at night for nookie.” She bites her lip. “If this was anyone else, I would just tell you to talk to him and sort things out, but that might be dangerous, considering what happened last time.”

                You just shrug. “Honestly, all things considered, it wouldn’t be that bad if he does.” She looks at you strangely. “Well, it’s a lot easier to accept that he’s an evil person if he does evil things, that just makes sense.”

                “Oh fuck,” Sadie says, rubbing at her face with one hand. “Are you serious?”

                “What?”

                “Honestly, are you trying to keep yourself so fixated on the idea that he’s evil so that you don’t have to admit that you have feelings for him?” she asks.

                Your jaw drops, and you feel a blush spread across your cheeks. “Woah, okay. I do not-” She crosses her arms over her chest and stares at you. “I thought this was a judgement-free zone.”

                “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, you know that,” she replies. “Okay, look, it’s not that weird, okay? If he’s that good-looking and nice to you, at least sometimes, then it makes sense that you may feel attracted to him. And he has the Force, you could be drawn to him because of that too. Plus he’s kind of mysterious, and he’s got that whole power thing going for him; some girls are really into that.”

                You curse under your breath and rub at your face with both hands.

                “Okay, just stop,” Sadie says. “Just listen to me for a second, okay? You’re in the clear. Whatever sort of fling you two have, it’s going to end in a few months anyway when we’re done here. So maybe he’s attracted to you. Maybe you’re attracted to him. There’s nothing wrong with just-” she shrugs. “- _enjoying_ yourself for a few months until we head home. It’s just fun, nothing more.”

                “You’re suggesting I keep fraternizing with the enemy?” you ask dryly, raising an eyebrow.

                “Hey, if you want to,” she mutters. “Remember, I haven’t seen this guy. If he’s that hot, I might want to jump him too.” You narrow your eyes at her, and she points a finger at you. “See that? Jealous. You’re jealous.”

                “Appalled,” you correct her. “Not jealous.”

                “Whatever,” she shakes her head. “Just think it over, okay? Go back to bed. We have to be up in a few hours. Just, whatever you decide to do or not do, stay safe, okay?”

                You nod your head quickly and she wraps her arms around you in a brief hug. You hug her back, and eventually pull away and head for the door. “And you’re welcome for those scarves,” she whispers, and you let a smile creep to your face as you head back to your room.

                You close the door behind you and slip into bed, pulling the covers up over your head. Did you really have feelings for Kylo Ren? Would it be so terrible if you did? Sadie was obviously right; nothing was going to come of it. You were only here for a few months, and that was it. You _had_ liked it when he kissed you, and you liked the way he touched you. The only reason you were even having any of these thoughts is because he had been running away like he was scared of you, when in reality, it should have been the other way around. If he had stayed and cuddled up in bed with you until you fell asleep, you wouldn’t be having these thoughts at all.

                You try to picture him in bed with you, but for some reason you get a mental image of Kylo Ren lying on your bed in full body armor, boots, helmet and all, and you can’t help but snort with laughter. You just couldn’t picture it, but maybe you didn’t need to. Maybe Sadie was right and you were doing this just for survival, making sure to stay on his good side. Maybe you did have feelings for him. Maybe it was both. Maybe he was lying awake in his bed right now, plagued by the same feelings of doubt and confusion that you were having.

                You smirk to yourself as you settle into your pillow, glad to see that you’re at least feeling a little better about the whole thing. Kylo Ren was supposed to be such a tough guy, a villain, a scary monster, and yet the one thing that broke him down and had him running from the room was a defenseless girl in her pajamas: you. Kylo Ren was afraid of you.

                “Hell yeah he is,” you whisper to no one in particular as you drift off to sleep.

                Kylo Ren does not come around the next night. Or the night after that, or the night after that. It makes you wonder if he’s ever going to come back, but you force yourself not to dwell on it. If he did, he did, and if he didn’t, then well, you didn’t need to worry about him anymore and you could carry on, business as usual. You idly wonder if he’s waiting for these bruises to go away too, before you force yourself to remember that these are not bruises; they are hickeys, and love bites, and there was a distinct difference between them, intention being the most important distinguishing factor of all.

                It was strange how that distinction changed your attitude entirely. When he had first choked you, you were constantly on edge, constantly afraid that someone might tug at the scarf around your neck and see the bruises. But now? Now it hardly mattered to you. You still wore scarves out of habit, but some days you wished that you could dare yourself to go without them. So what if someone saw a few hickeys on your neck? They would be curious as to who gave them to you, sure, but would they honestly believe you when you told them that Kylo Ren had been in your room? No, they wouldn’t. Your secret was safe.

                Of course, they would still wonder who gave them to you, and there was a very short list of suspects. Taro, of course, could sense something was up immediately as you entered the room the day after, saying that you looked _brighter._ You were beginning to wonder if his telepathy wasn’t so much a physical means of communicating thought, but rather of feeling, being able to perceive your emotions when you were nearby. It was a useful skill either way, but it meant that you had to try extra hard to conceal your thoughts around him. He teased you about your involvement with Ladson, but you just shrugged it off good-naturedly, pretending to be indifferent towards the whole affair. If you had seemed frustrated or annoyed with his line of questioning, then you might draw his suspicions, and so you did your best to answer his questions as directly as possible.

_Not your business, but he’s kind of been avoiding me lately._

_He’s probably just shy._

_Not shy. Honestly, he’s a bit of an asshole. He’s not going to come back._

Taro just shook his head as he pointed to you. _Pretty girl. He won’t be able to stay away._

                You had laughed and stuck out your tongue at him, and the next few days had carried on in this manner. Asking if Ladson had talked to you yet had become something of a running joke.

                At the end of the week, you had been sitting alone in your designated meeting room, waiting for Taro, when Ladson walked into your room. “Hey,” you say, looking up at him. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”

                “Has Taro shown up yet?” he asks, and you gesture to the empty seat next to you.

                “Does it look like he’s shown up yet?” you ask good-naturedly.

                “They’re really late today,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest as he takes a few steps into the room.

                “Yeah, well,” you shrug. “They just probably got caught up in a meeting or something.”

                “Yeah,” he says as he glances at the door behind him. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

                You shrug and gesture for him to have a seat in Taro’s chair. “Ask away.”

                He hesitates, and suddenly a little light above the door that you had never seen before flashes red as a siren begins to blare from somewhere in the distance. He turns to look at you, eyes wide, and you’re sure the reaction on your own face matches his as you head towards the door.

                There’s only one problem: it won’t open.

                “Hey,” Ladson bangs on the door with his fist, but it’s not budging. “Hey, anybody out there?”

                “Maybe it’s just a training exercise,” you tell him. “You know, some kind of drill? And they’re just sealing the doors for a few minutes because that’s standard procedure?”

                “Yeah? Well, would’ve been nice if we had a little warning,” he mutters, hitting the door with the side of his fist again.

                “Stop that.” You grab his arm and forcibly pull him away from the door. “Banging’s not going to help, all right? Just calm down. We’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”

                “You’re right,” he sighs. “Probably why the Tortutaru are late today. Hux or someone probably warned them about this at their meeting this morning.”

                “Exactly,” you sigh, sitting back down in the chair. It doesn’t feel right, and you quickly stand up again. “So, what did you want to ask me?”

                He just shakes his head like it’s not important as he slumps against the wall. You slump against the wall next to him, mimicking his posture. “What?” he asks, turning to look at you.

                “I don’t know,” you shrug. “Just, waiting, same as you.”

                You’re silent for a few moments as the minutes tick by. You don’t hear sirens anymore, but the light above the door is still flashing.

                “Taking a while,” he mutters under his breath.

                “Oh, don’t be like Shayne,” you chide him.

                “Shayne?” he lets out a breath. “If I was stuck in a room with him, I would smash myself through that door.”

                “Could always try to throw the chair against it,” you tell him. “Although please do give me warning. I don’t want to be in the way when it bounces back and hits you in the face.” He laughs and slides down the wall.

                “We’re going to be here a while,” he murmurs.

                “Yeah, maybe,” you say idly. Silence passes between you for a few minutes, and you slide down the wall to sit on the floor next to him. The room looks a lot smaller from the floor, although you’re not quite sure why.

                “So that thing,” he says.

                “That thing?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah, go ahead, shoot.”

                He shakes his head. “Maybe later. Can you keep a secret?”

                “Can I keep a secret?” For some reason, this strikes you as deliciously funny, especially considering you had started keeping secrets pretty much the first day you stepped on base. “Believe me when I tell you that I am _the best_ at keeping secrets.”

                “ _The_ best?” he asks teasingly.

                “I never speak in absolutes unless they are true,” you tell him. “Get it? I _never_ -”

                “You’re hilarious,” he says dryly as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small silver flask from an inside pocket.

“I’m guessing that’s not water,” you say as he throws his head back and takes a swig of it.

                “You want some?” He wipes at his chin with his sleeve as he offers it to you. You eye it hesitantly before you take it and raise it to your lips and take a quick sip.

                “This is good,” you say, taking another sip. He holds out his hand for it, but you slap his hand away and keep drinking.

                “Hey, we need to ration that,” he says. “We have no idea how long we’ll be in here for.”

                “Fair enough,” you relent, handing the flask back to him. He caps it and sticks it back in his pocket, out of sight. “That is some good shit though. What is that?”

                He looks at you and winks. “Alderaanian wine.”

                “Alderaanian wine?” you ask, your jaw dropping open. “Are you kidding me? Seriously? Where did you get that?”

                He rolls his eyes. “I think Sadie’s starting to get a bit desperate.”

                “Sadie?” you ask incredulously. Then again, it made sense. Of course her father was wealthy enough to afford Alderaanian wine. Ever since the planet was destroyed, the price of their wine had gone up. Way up. “Bitch has been holding out on me,” you mutter petulantly.

                “Eh,” he cocks his head to the side and shrugs.

                “So you carry that thing around with you often?” you ask. He gets what you’re implying and looks away from you.

                “I call it keeping myself sane,” he says. “I don’t know what kind of fucked up shit you’re doing to cope, but it’s not easy being here, I’m sure you know that.”

                You frown at his candor. You had been so caught up in your own trials and tribulations aboard the Starkiller Base that you hadn’t really noticed that everyone else was probably struggling, just like you were. “Ladson, what’s wrong?”

                He shakes his head. “I just feel cooped up all the time, and paranoid, like I can’t relax. I’m probably being stupid, but I feel like I’m constantly being watched, like there’s constantly someone in my head.” He looks at you. “You ever feel like that?”

                “I feel like someone’s constantly trying to get in,” you tell him truthfully.

                “So how do you handle it?” he asks. “If you don’t drink, what do you do?”

                “Drive myself insane, very, very slowly,” you tell him. He chuckles and looks down at his hands. “I don’t know, I think a lot. Sometimes I try to read, but I just can’t focus.”

                “Same here.”

                “Sometimes I try to practice that self-defense stuff,” you tell him, making sure to exclude any mention of your staff. “Just practice, in my room, like the drills and stuff. Punching and kicking. It stops me from being inside my own head too much.”

                “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he says. “I knew being here would be dull, but this is on a whole new level. Like, I’ll think about things, and then I’ll overthink them. It’s like my brain just won’t shut up sometimes. Like I’ll think the weirdest stuff, and then I won’t be sure if I really think that way or if I’m just thinking it because I’m overthinking everything.”

                “Yeah,” you say quietly, looking down at the floor.

                “Sorry,” he says quickly as he looks away. “I-”

                “No,” you interrupt. “No, I get what you’re trying to say. It makes sense, I feel that way too. More often than I feel like I should, at least.”

                “I guess we all feel like that,” he says. “Honestly, I had expected the interpreting on this assignment to be a challenge for me, which is why I took it, but it feels like we’re hardly interpreting at all.”

                “Well, they need someone to do it,” you shrug. “I can’t believe they still haven’t made a droid that’s able to really pick up on all the nuances of sign language. There’s too much subtlety, I guess. It goes right over their heads.”

                “And they better not,” he snorts. “Or else we’ll be out of a job.”

                You sit around quietly for a while, occasionally passing the wine back and forth without speaking. You hadn’t really noticed that Ladson was struggling. He had always seemed so calm and collected whenever you spoke to him, but you supposed that was just a mask he was wearing. Just like you had a mask that you were wearing. You could only imagine what kind of masks Sadie and Shayne and B and C were all wearing too. Maybe it’s why the Storm Troopers wore their helmets all the time. Maybe it was a relief not to be required to be constantly aware of your facial expressions at any point in the day. If you were scared, you could look scared. If you were angry, you could look angry. No one would know the difference with that helmet concealing your every emotion.

                You look up. The red light above the door is still flashing. “I wonder where the others are,” you wonder out loud. “I wonder if they’re still stuck in their own rooms, or if they managed to get out in time. Maybe they’re back at the apartment, worried about us.”

                “I hope so, honestly,” Ladson replies. “I mean, at least we can talk to each other in here to pass the time. They’re probably going crazy if they’re stuck in there by themselves.”

                “Well, Shayne’s already crazy,” you tell him. “I don’t think he’s going to get any worse.” Ladson laughs, and you shake your head. “I’m worried about Sadie though. I hope she’s okay.”

                He looks at you for a moment. “You two are really close, aren’t you?”

                “Two peas in a pod,” you tell him as you roll your head back to rest on the wall behind you. “She has a thing for you, you know.”

                “Oh does she?” Ladson asks sarcastically. “I couldn’t tell.”

                “It’s kind of obvious,” you mutter. He looks at you and laughs, and you echo it. He takes another sip of the wine and you do too. You’re not quite sure whether it’s the wine or if it’s just because it’s starting to feel hot in the room, but you definitely are starting to feel some sort of buzz. “So do you have a thing for her?”

                He shakes his head. “No. She’s been trying though, but she’s fighting a losing battle. I don’t like her that way.” His eyes meet yours as he takes your hand in his. You can feel your breath hitch in your chest.

                “Ladson,” you say quietly. “I’m, I’m sorry but I, I don’t-” He bursts out laughing as he lets go of your hand, and you smack his arm repeatedly. “Oh you are such an _asshole_.”

                “I’m sorry,” he laughs, pulling his arm away from you. “I’m sorry, that was too good for me to pass up.”

                “Asshole,” you mutter again, but you can’t hide the smirk on your face. “So, what, do you have a girlfriend back at home?”

                “No,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “No, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

                There’s something odd in his tone as he says this, and you think it over for a moment, letting it sink in. “Oh,” you say, and then, as the realization hits you, “ _Oh._ ” You turn to him sharply. “Oh wow, I am such an asshole.”

                “I can almost guarantee that only a very small part of you is an asshole,” he says. You stare at him for a moment, mouth gaping, before you both collapse into a fit of giggles, grabbing onto each other for support.

                “Please tell me this is the wine,” you say, burying your face in your hands. Your face is bright red, and you can feel the heat on your cheeks.

                “I don’t know,” he says, looking you over. “Were you drinking when you told Taro that you had a crush on me?”

                You look up at him sharply. “I never said that.”

                “You told him we kissed,” he says. He doesn’t look annoyed, or angry, just curious.

                “Who told you that?” you ask. “Your Tortutaru?”

                “Obviously.”

                “Man, they are such a bunch of gossips,” you say, kicking your foot out. There’s nothing to hit it against, but the gesture makes you feel a little better all the same.

                “So are we,” Ladson says, and you can’t help but agree with that. Interpreters were notorious within inner circles for being gossips. You were the best at keeping confidentiality, and you were the best at gossiping. It was a paradox that was not worth taking the time to try to puzzle out. “So why did you tell him that we kissed?”

                “He-” You shake your head. You have absolutely no idea how to explain yourself.

                “You kissed someone you shouldn’t have and decided to blame it on me to throw him off the scent?” he asks.

                “Your powers of deduction are astounding,” you say dryly.

                “Who was it?” he asks. You turn away from him. “Do you need more wine?” You turn to glare at him. “If you don’t tell me, I’m just going to start throwing out names.”

                “Kylo Ren,” you tell him, keeping your voice as level as possible. He stares at you for a moment, studying your expression, before he bursts out laughing. You allow yourself to grin and chuckle a little bit, trying to play along. You didn’t think he’d believe you, but it actually felt good to get it off your chest all the same.

                “Man, you said it with such a straight face too.” He shakes his head. “So, really, who did you kiss?”

                “If I told you, then I wouldn’t be the best secret keeper in the galaxy,” you tease.

                “Fine,” he sighs. “Don’t tell me. But you’re not going to get any more wine until you do.” You hold out your hand for the flask and he rolls his eyes as he places it in your open palm. “I’m too good to you.”

                “But I appreciate it,” you tell him. “And I hate to break it to you, but I’m not going to tell Sadie any of this.”

                “Oh, please don’t,” he replies. “If you tell her I’m not interested in her, she’s not going to give me any more wine.”

                “And then I’m not going to be able to blackmail you for my share,” you say. He looks up at you sharply. “See? Isn’t this a fun little game?”

                He shakes his head. “Honestly, we’re turning into such bad people. Do you think it’s because we’re hanging around the First Order so much? Maybe it’s something in the air. Makes people turn evil.”

                “They’re not evil,” you say. “And they’re not bad, not really. They’re just conflicted.”

                He snorts out his nose, as if he can’t tell if you’re being serious or not. You force a smile to your lips as you look up at him and hand back the flask.

                You fall into another lapse of silence, and this one seems to stretch on forever as the little red light blinks steadily overhead. The steady hum of silence is only broken by the sound of his stomach growling, and yours immediately follows suit. He laughs appreciatively, but it sounds forced. The buzz you experienced before has died down now. The fact that you were in here for so long, without any word from the outside, was sobering enough in itself.  

                “How long do you think we’ve been in here?” you ask quietly.

                “Two hours, maybe?” he asks. “If we’re in here for much longer, I’m going to have to start keeping track.”

                “Keeping track?” you ask blankly. He reaches into the pocket on the other side of his jacket and pulls out a pocket knife. “For emergencies?” He nods. “So, what exactly are you going to do with that?” He rolls up the cuff of his pants leg, and you have to turn away. “Oh, no, dude, please don’t.”

                “It’s fine,” he says quietly. You shut your eyes and he makes two sharp exhales. You wait until you hear him putting the knife back in his jacket pocket before you look at him again. There are two thin lines on the side of his leg, not deep by any means, although small droplets of blood are starting to surface on his skin. He catches your eye and quickly rolls down the cuff of his pants.

                “That was extremely not necessary,” you tell him.

                “I want to keep track of how long we’re in here for,” he says simply.

                “I’m sure there are better ways of keeping track,” you argue, crossing your arms over your chest. “Like, counting on your fingers, for example. Or just remembering.”

                “You’re going to thank me for it if we’re in here all night,” he says.

                “We’re not going to be in here all night,” you say testily, but you both stop and look at the blinking red light above the door. You’d been missing for quite a while, but no one had come along looking for either of you yet. Was the whole base on lock down? It had been quiet outside. What was happening out there? You frown as your eyes trail back to the cuff of his pants. Two small lines were nothing, but it was going to be a problem if you were in here all night. And tomorrow. And the day after that, especially considering you didn’t think there was more than a drop of wine left in that flask.

                “I have an idea,” you say quickly, and you’re surprised you haven’t thought of it before.

                “You have a plan?” he asks. There is a twinge of hope in his voice, and it makes your heart sink. In truth, no, you don’t have a plan. You have a stupid idea, and you’re not sure if it was going to work.

                “The Tortutaru are telepathic, right?” you ask. “Maybe if we both concentrate hard enough, we can send out our thoughts to them. Tell them where we are.”

                “That doesn’t sound like much of a plan,” he admits.

                “Well, do you have a better idea?” you ask.

                “We’re not telepathic,” he says. “Well, I don’t know about you, but at least I’m not.”

                “It’s worth a shot,” you tell him. “Just try to meditate. Like, use your mental energy to throw your thoughts into the void. Maybe we can’t hear them, but maybe they will be able to hear us.”

                “That sounds like the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he mutters.

                “Just, try it,” you say. “It can’t hurt.”

                He holds out his hands in front of him, and you tilt your head to the side. “I don’t know, will this help?” he asks. “Unite our energies? I don’t have a clue here.”

                “That makes two of us,” you say. You take both of his hands in yours, interlocking your fingers and push against them slightly. He squeezes back and you shut your eyes.

                “Should we direct our thoughts to anyone in particular?” he asks. “Like Taro?”

                “I don’t think it matters,” you say. “Just, think where you are. Ask for help. I don’t know, just think.”

                “Won’t it make more sense if our thoughts are in sync though?” he asks. You let out a long sigh. His palms are sweaty, that’s somewhat distracting, and his constant talking is not making it any easier to focus. “Okay, okay, I’ll shut up now.”

                With your eyes still closed, you focus on the warmth of his hands in yours and try to draw from his energy. You have no idea if you can do that or not, but it seems like a good idea to at least try. You breathe in and out deeply, like you’re meditating, trying to clear your mind of idle thoughts so you can focus before you throw your message out into the vastness of your conscious.

                _Kylo?_ You ask the dark space of your mind. _Can you hear me? Um, I’m stuck in the meeting room with Ladson. We don’t know what’s going on out there but we’re stuck. If you could get us out, or send someone, that would be, you know, great._

You feel like an idiot. You might as well been talking to yourself. This wasn’t going to work. Unless…

                You blink and resettle yourself again, trying to think. Behind your eyes is darkness, yes, but if you can concentrate hard enough, focus hard enough, you can end up back in that room again. It takes you a few minutes, but eventually you can visualize it in your mind. It’s a large white room, bright, no windows, although the walls still glow as if they’re lit by natural sunlight. You see the large brick wall in front of you.

 _KYLO._ You smash yourself against the bricks, sending your shoulder into the wall. It trembles a little bit, and you realize that if you’re going to get through to him, the wall is going to need to come down. You feel along the wall, searching for a loose brick, trying to remember where Kylo had hit the wall before. You push at groups of stones with your hands before finally finding one that’s loose. You push at the edges of the brick with your fingers and finally manage to push it through. You bend down slightly to look through the hole you just made, but there’s only darkness beyond you, just pitch blackness, as far as the eye can see. “Kylo?” you whisper into the void. It evokes a distinctly ominous vibe, like something might lash out at you at any second, but you don’t have a choice.

                “Kylo, listen to me,” you shout through the hole. “I knocked down the wall a little bit so I hope you get this message. I’m with Ladson. We’re stuck in the meeting room and we don’t know what’s going on, but if you can help get us out, that’d be appreciated.” You pause and wait. Did he get it? There’s no answer. “Okay, Kylo Ren. Calling Kylo Ren. I’ve been stuck in the meeting room for hours and I’m starting to get hungry and kind of pissed off so you better get somebody down here soon or else I’m going to-”

                _Woah._ You feel lightheaded for a moment, and suddenly you feel yourself falling backwards. You can hear Ladson shout your name, or at least it sounded like he shouted your name, and you blink a few times before you fully open your eyes. You’re slumped backwards, but Ladson is still holding your hands tightly in his to keep you from falling over completely. “What the fuck was that?” he asks as you roll yourself back into a seated position.

                “What?” You blink at him. The lights in the room suddenly feel very bright, and your head is aching.

                “You were murmuring something under your breath,” he says. “And then your head just sort of rolled backwards. What the hell were you doing?”

                “Trying to channel?” you ask. He stares at you strangely. “I don’t know, sorry. I got dizzy.”

                “Please don’t pass out on me,” he says. You let go of him and drop your head in your hands and almost slump to the side. For some reason, you feel incredibly lightheaded, and you can’t tell if Kylo Ren is inside your head or not.

_If you’re in my head then you know where I am. Come find me._

                “Come here,” Ladson says, and he pulls you under one arm as you rest your head on his shoulder. The fabric is a bit rough and scratchy under your cheek, but otherwise it’s not too bad. “You seriously look like you’re about to pass out. What the hell happened?”

                “I think I got through,” you say weakly. The lights are too bright, and you feel like you’re having a serious migraine. Maybe knocking a hole in the wall was a bad idea after all.

                “Well, looks like we’ll have to wait and see,” he murmurs. You relax and close your eyes. The room still feels like it’s spinning around you, but your hand finds Ladson’s again and you squeeze it to try to keep yourself grounded. “If you’re going to throw up, please don’t do it on me. This is one of my favorite shirts.”

                “Shut up,” you mutter. “By the way, I wouldn’t tell anyone else I just did that.”

                “Fine by me,” he says. “I don’t even know what the hell you just did.”

                “I think I reached Taro,” you mumble, impressed with yourself for managing to keep up your deception under your present circumstances. “I mean, we’re kind of friends now. We share a bond. I don’t know why, but I think if you share a bond, the connection is stronger.”

                “You’re slurring,” he warns, and you can’t help but notice the concern in his voice. He smooths down the hair on the top of your head as you fade in and out.

                “I _think_ we share a bond,” you continue, and you let yourself drift off.

                Sometime later, you’re awakened by Ladson shaking your shoulder. “Hey, hey, I think I hear someone outside.” You groan as he shifts underneath you, forcing your head into an upright position. There’s a kink in your neck from napping with your head at such an awkward angle, and you place both hands on the side of your neck as you twist it back into position. You realize that the scarf is slipping, revealing one of the bite marks, and you adjust yourself as best you can before Ladson notices.

                “Someone’s coming,” he whispers excitedly as the door opens. You blink for a moment as you take Ladson’s outstretched hand and scramble to your feet as Captain Phasma enters the room. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

                “Your distress call has been received,” she says. Ladson sighs and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug, his back turned towards Phasma.

                “He did it,” he cheers in your ear. “Taro came through for us.”  

                Phasma tilts her head in confusion, and you awkwardly move your hand around his arm to put a finger to your lips without him noticing. She bows her head slightly in the faintest of nods. As he pulls away from you, you stumble, almost losing your balance.

                “Are you all right?” Phasma asks.

                “I’m fine,” you say quickly, waving her off. She notices, however, that you’re grabbing onto Ladson’s arm as if it’s a lifeline.

                “She’s a little out of it. She-” He stops talking when you squeeze his arm. Didn’t you just tell him _not_ to tell anyone? Sure Captain Phasma had just said that she had gotten your distress call, but if Kylo Ren was giving her orders, she may not have known that the signal came from you directly. The less people knew the better. “She has low blood sugar,” he says quickly. “She hasn’t eaten anything today.”

                “Allow me.” You’re so out of it that you don’t even realize that Phasma is in front of you until she is picking you up, throwing you around her shoulders. She puts one arm between your legs and pulls your right arm across her chest, holding you firmly in a fireman's carry. You assume she must have done this a hundred times with soldiers on the battlefield, but you had never been in quite such a position before.

                “You just need to rest,” Ladson tells you as she carries you out into the hallway. “We’ll get you back to your room, you’ll have a nice long nap, and you’ll feel better in the morning, okay?” You moan wearily as you shut your eyes. The bouncing of her footsteps is making your headache worse, but you don’t comment on it.

                “This is so embarrassing,” you murmur. “Just put me down. Please? I can walk.”

                “You can thank me later,” she says. You sigh and resign yourself to be carried through the corridor back to your room. By the time you get there, you’re already fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus endeth chapter 12!! Bit of a lighter, funnier chapter after the intensity of yesterday's smut!! xD 
> 
> So in the effort of full disclosure, I stayed up to 3 AM writing and then passed out on my keyboard....and I had a crazy, crazy dream for a story after this story. It's a little different of an ending that I had originally intended, doesn't change the current plot in any way, but it does leave room for a full-fledged sequel that you guys might like......hmm. I'm honestly not sure. I'm still thinking it over. Don't worry, you guys are still going to get your full 30 chapters of this story and I'll let you know as we get closer if there will be a sequel or not. I know some people who are strictly anti-sequel people, because I'm sort of that way too, but if I end up deciding to write it I might as well post it, even if there are only two people reading it. xD As I said, I'll think it over and keep you guys posted. In the meantime, until tomorrow!! Cheers!!


	13. Chapter 13

                By the time Captain Phasma carried you back to your room, you were really out of it.

                You had a vague recollection of cracking your eyes open slightly to see Captain Phasma setting you down on your bed, because you specifically remember the way the light from your bedside lamp reflected off her silver armor as she turned around and left the room. Ladson’s voice sounded faint and far away as he bent over you, telling you something about B before he disappeared from your line of sight. B? What about B? Was he going to go find him? You want to roll over and turn your head towards the living room, but your entire body aches and you can’t move. You hear talking, or think you hear talking, and you try to move your head in their direction but it won’t budge. Your entire body feels sluggish and heavy and you don’t have the energy to even move into a more comfortable position. You’re pretty sure you can hear people come into your room, and that’s when your eyes slip closed.

                You don’t wake up again until the next morning.

                When your eyes finally do shoot open again, you immediately grimace and clutch at your side to try to alleviate the sharp, shooting ache in your stomach. How long had you been out for? You push yourself out of bed and look around, but your room looks the same, staring back at you with its usual unblinking gaze. Nothing seems different; nothing is out of place. You swing your legs out of bed and shuffle towards the living room, where everyone else has already gathered. 

                “Finally,” Ladson says as you walk in. “She wakes.” Your eyes immediately fall on Sadie to see her reaction, but she doesn’t even register his comment. She looks way more concerned about you.

                “How are you feeling?” B asks as you throw yourself on the couch beside Ladson.

                “You want something to eat?” Ladson asks you quietly, and you just nod, brushing your bangs out of your face. Ladson looks at Shayne, who simply nods and gets to his feet.

                “So someone’s going to have to tell me what happened….yesterday?” you ask hesitantly. Your question is met with a chorus of nods. “Okay then, yesterday. What happened?”         

                “We’re not exactly sure,” B explains. “We heard someone saw Resistance fighters approaching the base, but I’m not sure how much stock we can put in that story.” He glances over at Shayne in the kitchen. “Either way, it was either just a false alarm or a training drill. We heard the sirens, same as you, and were immediately escorted back here.”  

                “We went out into the hallway after we heard the sirens,” Sadie volunteers. “Shayne and I didn’t see you guys and so we headed back here too. We figured you were already here, until B told us you hadn’t gotten back yet.”  

                “They didn’t send anyone looking for us,” Ladson says as Shayne hands you a plate of food. You thank him quietly. “Can you believe it? What a bunch of jerks.”

                “We figured you were just waiting for everything to blow over,” B says smoothly, and you can tell that they had been arguing about this for quite a while.

                C finally speaks up. “The important thing is that everyone’s okay. You have the next two or three days off to recover.”

                “How long were we in there for?” you ask nervously.

                “Eight hours?” Sadie offers. “Nine?”

                “Holy shit,” you murmur. You turn to Ladson who just closes his eyes and nods. “So much for your two hours. Apparently you suck at keeping time.”

                “Well, that makes two of us,” he says simply. You’re a bit disappointed that he wasn’t joking around with you like he was before, but you supposed the fact that everyone was there had something to do with it. You felt like you had really made a connection with him, like you had really made a good friend back there. But maybe it was just a friendship built on yesterday’s circumstances, and nothing more.

                Shayne looks over at you and leans forward in his seat. “So, how did-”

                “Enough,” Ladson snarls aggressively, putting his hand protectively over your knee. You pull at a slice of bread with your teeth and stay quiet, watching the scene unfold in front of you. Sadie looks at you now, curiously, and you blush and look away. Complications upon complications.

                They glare daggers at each other, and B sighs and sinks his face into his hands while C just gets up and leaves the room. “Um,” you say at length, but no one looks at you.

                “They’ve been like this all day,” Sadie tells you quietly, even though they are sitting right there and can clearly hear what she’s saying. “Shayne wants to know how you got out.”

                “Captain Phasma was the one who found you guys, right?” Shayne asks. “How did she know you were in there?”

                “They were probably just checking rooms,” B tells him.

                “There was a little red light above the door that kept flashing,” Ladson adds. “Maybe that was some kind of sign to show that there was still someone in the room. Or maybe there were hidden security cameras in there and they saw us.”

                Shayne leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, like he’s not satisfied with Ladson’s answer. “Can I have some water?” you ask through a mouthful of food, and Ladson gets up to get you a glass.

                “Please, do drink up,” B says. “You were locked in that room for quite a while. You’re probably very dehydrated; it’s probably why you passed out.”

                “That makes sense,” you say casually, because it really does. You have a very faint recollection of expending your mental energy trying to get a message out to Kylo Ren, but then everything after that is fuzzy.

                “Here.” Ladson hands you a glass of water, and your fingertips brush his as you take it.

                “Thanks,” you reply softly, and your eyes skirt again to Sadie as you drink. She sits, watching you with her hands crossed over her chest, as if she’s cold. You had to talk to her, but it had to be as inconspicuous as possible. No one talks as you finish eating and you put the plate down on the table in front of you. Ladson picks it up and takes it into the kitchen to clean.  

                “You should go rest,” B says. “I know it’s probably not what you want to hear right now, but-”

                “No, it’s fine,” you say quickly. “Can Sadie come keep me company though?”

                B waves his hand dismissively, as if he couldn't care less, and Sadie grabs your hand as she pulls you to your feet. Wordlessly, you enter your room and shut the door behind you.

                _So_ , Sadie signs as you sit down on the bed. _I’m guessing there’s more to the story than what I heard._

You tap your ear twice and shake your head. _What did you hear?_

She sits down cross-legged across from you and shakes her head. _You tell me._

 _Fine._ You look at the door and then lean forward as you whisper, “I think I’m-” No, you can’t say it. _I think I’m developing my Force powers._

She cocks her head to the side. _How so?_

You make the sign for Kylo Ren on the side of your face. _I reached out to him, Sadie. I reached out to him with my mind and told him where we were. That’s how Captain Phasma found us. K-R sent her to come get us._

Sadie furrows her brow in confusion. _Why?_ You blink at her and shake your head. You don’t understand, and she clarifies her question. _Why do you think he rescued you?_

Your jaw drops as you try to make sense of what she asked. She had a point. So what if you were stuck in a room for eight or nine hours? Why would Kylo Ren care about that? Unless he cared about your well-being? You make a sign by your face, the sign for _cherish_ or _covet_ or _treasure._

                “I guess,” Sadie whispers. _Well, at least now you have two guys to fight over you._

You shake your head. “There’s nothing going on between me and Ladson.”

                “Like hell,” she whispers back, slicing through the air with her fingers as she signs and talks at the same time. “I saw the way he was around you.”

                “We’re just good friends now,” you tell her. You bite your lip as you think back to yesterday. Ladson didn’t want you to tell Sadie that he wasn’t interested in girls, and that was fair, it was not your place to out him. But at the same time, he wasn’t telling her just to get at her wine stash. As her friend, didn’t you have an obligation to let her know she was being used?

                Then again, you could also score some good booze out of the deal if you kept your mouth shut. Ladson was right. You all were becoming truly wicked, selfish people by being here. “Maybe he’s trying to make you jealous.”

                She laughs quietly to herself. “Is this some scheme you and he cooked up while you were stuck in there by yourselves?”

                “No scheme,” you say, shaking your head. “Besides, you really think I’m going to try to make Kylo Ren, of all people, jealous? He may not be able to get into my head, but he can get into Ladson’s, and I have no desire to let him get killed, especially not over me.”

                “Fair enough,” she replies. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

                You just shake your head. “Nope.”

                You take a nap in the afternoon, even though you had slept most of the day, and wake up at night. You’re sitting in your room, reading, when you hear a knock on the door. Your eyes immediately dart to the door leading to the corridor before you realize that this knocking sounds different. It wasn’t a knock so much as a musical code. It’s also not coming from the corridor. You slip out of bed in your usual pajamas and make your way over the living room door, pulling it open.

                “Good, you’re still up,” Ladson whispers as he comes in, brandishing the flask in front of him. “I thought maybe you had gone to bed.”

                “Nah, I tend to stay up late,” you say with a shrug. “Got more wine?”

                “Yes,” he says, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eye as he says it. “As payment for keeping my secret.”

                “You don’t have to,” you say, but he tilts his head to the side and fixes you with his steely stare. “Okay, yes you do. Thank you.”

                “There we go,” he says. “If I’m going to hell, I’m taking you down with me.”

                “Oh, believe me, I think I’m having an easy enough time getting there myself,” you tell him.

                “I figured as much.” He sits down on the floor and you lie across the bed on your stomach, looking down at him. “Especially with those marks on your neck.”

                Your eyes go wide and you grasp at your exposed neck. _Shit. You weren’t wearing a scarf right now._ “Relax,” he says. “I saw them yesterday too while you were out of it.” He just takes a casual swig of wine and offers the flask to you. “So, who’d you fuck?”

                “No one,” you say quickly, aware of how stupid that sounds as soon as it’s left your mouth.

                “Well,” he says, ticking names off on his fingers. “I’m willing to bet it wasn’t Shayne, you still have some shame.” You nod your head. “I’m willing to bet it wasn’t Sadie. She’s like a sister to you, and I don’t think you’re one to get turned on by that whole incest vibe.” You reach forward to smack him, but he’s out of your reach. “It obviously wasn’t me, unless I’ve been getting drunker than I remember-”

                “You never know,” you tell him, and he laughs under his breath.

                “Obviously not B or C, for obvious reasons,” he says. “And I doubt it was Taro, considering he doesn’t really have teeth to make marks like that.”

                “I told you yesterday,” you say teasingly. “Kylo Ren.” But even saying his name here sounds wrong, as if he could somehow listen in on your conversation by the mere mention of his name.  

                Ladson rolls his eyes like he still doesn’t believe you. “Seriously, though, who is it?”

                “You remember that Storm Trooper that gave our interviews?” you ask him, and he nods. “He was _really_ interested in me.”

                “Fucking knew it,” Ladson snickers as he high-fives you. “Hey, we’re all coping one way or another here. No judgement.” You smirk and take the wine from him, drinking more than you should. To be fair, Kylo was the one who did your interview. It wasn’t that far from the truth. “So that’s why you were so late that day?”

                “Yeah,” you say casually. “We’ve been seeing each other on and off since then.”

                “I’m sure,” he says. “So I thought about what you said yesterday.” He takes another sip from the flask and you wait for him to continue. “Fight me.”

                You shake your head. “What are you talking about?”

                “You said you practice your self-defense stuff at night,” he says. “I want to practice too, but I feel like an idiot doing it by myself. Fight me. Let’s spar or something.”

                “You’re stronger than me,” you tell him.

                “I’m not going to hurt you.” He shakes his head. “Just, playing around, that’s all. Maybe it’ll help keep my mind off being here.”

                You sigh and get up off the bed, the muscles in your thighs protesting. You’re tired, and all you want to do is flop back in bed and keep drinking. “Fine by me, let’s go.”

                “Okay.” He stands up and puts the flask on your desk before he stands in front of you. You both get into a fighting stance, throwing one leg back, and keeping your arms up by your chest. “So, what do we do now?”

                “I don’t know,” you say.              

                “Aren’t you supposed to come at me or something?” he asks.

                “Well, what are we doing?”

                “Fighting?”

                “Well, what kind of fighting?”

                He shakes his head. “Stop making this complicated and hit me.” 

                “How?”

                “With your hand?” he asks.

                “Open hand?” you ask him. “Fist? Back-hand?”

                “Whatever,” he says. “Your choice.”

                “Okay,” you let out a breath. “Like, fast or-?”

                He lets out a long, loud exhale, and you rush forward, punching him in the chest. “Oww,” he says as he grabs your wrist. You try to pull away but he’s stronger than you, and so you try to punch him with your other fist. He grabs that one too, and he’s standing in front of you, holding both of your wrists in front of his face. You move your knee up slowly to imitate kneeing him in the groin, and he bends his knees together, but can’t block you.

                “Fair enough,” he breathes. “One point for you.”

                You continue like this for about an hour until he is out of breath and eventually retires back to his room for the night. It was a nice change of pace, you thought, a nice distraction from everything that was going on. Over the course of the next three days, you did not have any more meetings with Taro. You weren’t sure exactly why, but you supposed it had something to do with whatever drill or training exercise that they had, since you had fully recovered by the next day. B and C still went to their morning meetings, which left you time to hang out with Sadie during the day. You had expected your sparring with Ladson to be a one-time thing, but he came back every night, bringing back wine and a fresh fighting spirit.

                “You know, after three days of this, you’d think you would be able to block me by now,” you say, as you imitate kicking him in the groin again.

                “Well, my hands are full.” He huffs as grabs your foot, then releases you. You take a few steps back and signal for him to come towards you. He kicks at your chest with his long legs, but you easily block his foot with the outside of your arm, pushing it out sideways. He almost loses his balance, and grabs the desk for support. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were getting good at this.”

                “You are too,” you tell him. “Pretty soon the First Order is going to be onto us. They’re going to get wind of our epic fighting ability and make us join their army.”

                “Don’t even joke,” he says. He puts his hands on his knees as he huffs, and then signals for you to come at him again. You move to punch him, but he blocks it with his arm and slaps you lightly across your cheek with his fingertips.

                “Ow,” you say teasingly.

                “Can’t hit you too hard,” he teases. “Don’t want your boyfriend getting mad at me.”

                “Boyfriend?” You raise an eyebrow and stop trying to hit him. “Since when is he my boyfriend?”

                “I don’t know, is he?” Ladson asks.

                You stand up straight and put your hands on your hips. “Are you asking if he’s my boyfriend? Why? Are you interested?”

                “Please.” He shakes his head. “Just wondering. When do you even see him?”

                “After meetings,” you tell him. You rush forward to hit him again. He grabs your arm, but loosely, giving you time to spin around and elbow him in the gut, gently. “You know, little secret rendezvous.” You step away from him and signal that it’s his turn. “Much more fun that way.”

                He steps forward to punch you, and you duck out of the way, hitting him in the chest with the heel of your hand. He grins and takes a few steps backwards. “Yeah, I bet.” He stops, and gestures vaguely in the air with one hand. “I was wondering if you could, you know.”

                You stare at him in confusion before the realization dawns on you. “Are you being serious right now?”

                “I have needs too,” he whispers harshly, and you hold the back of your hand against your mouth in a vain attempt to stifle your laughter.  

                “Fair enough,” you tell him. “So is this what I’m doing right now? Distracting you from your needs?”

                He shakes his head. “I don’t know how these guys do it day in and day out, but it’s weird not having any regular human contact, you know?”

                “Yeah,” you say, thinking it over. You hadn’t really had any time to yourself to really think about it over the past few days, but maybe that at least accounted for some of your affection towards Kylo Ren. It was nice just to be touched, or held, or cared for, even if you didn’t have a clue why he was doing it.

                “Oh, you’re thinking about him,” he notices as he shakes his head from side to side. 

                “Am not,” you insist. You rush forward to hit him again, but your movements are all clumsy and you end up stumbling and falling on top of him.

                “Okay, oww,” he says as you roll off of him, and both of you collapse in a fit of giggles. “You need some more wine.” He pushes the flask towards you, although you’ve been at this for two hours now and it’s almost empty. Honestly, you’ve had most of it so far, but you raise the flask to your lips and drink deeply anyway.

                “I should get going,” he says as he gets to his feet. He helps you up and you stumble a little bit before bursting into another fit of giggles. “See you tomorrow night?”

                “I better,” you say. “Or you better, or someone better-”

                He just grins at you and shakes his head in laughter. “Get to bed.”

                “I will,” you say as he heads out into the living room and shuts the door behind him. You shake your head. You’re not drunk, just a bit tipsy, just enough for you to be completely at ease with yourself right now. You could see why he drank so much now. Life was so much less stressful when you could get out of your own head, when you didn’t have to spend so much time cooped up alone with your own thoughts. You had been doing nothing but sitting alone with yourself and your problems since you first got here, and it was honestly nice to just hang out with Ladson and drink and goof around with him. It made you feel more like your younger self, not uptight and professional, but relaxed and carefree.

                Relaxed and carefree aboard the Starkiller Base? Those were two words you never thought you would use to describe your experience here. “It’s more like the Moodkiller Base, am I right?” you ask Ladson, but he can’t hear you and you know that. You laugh at your own stupid joke anyway and are just about to head into bed when you hear a knock on the outside door. You go over to it and open it wide, not surprised in the slightest to see Kylo Ren standing there.

                “Hi,” you chirp happily, and he hovers for a moment before coming inside. Your hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, and you are just slightly sweaty from your exercise with Ladson. Your face is flushed red, both from exertion and the wine, and you’re dressed in nothing but your shorts and tank top pajamas again.

                He looks at you, and you can’t help but laugh as you look away from him. “I’m sorry, but you need to take off that helmet.” He does so, slowly, not saying anything, and you can’t help but giggle again as his hair falls in front of his face. “I’m never going to get used to that.” He looks vaguely insulted as he sweeps back his hair with one hand, and you quickly shake your head. “Not what I meant, just that you’re attractive, under there, I didn’t expect that.” You cluck your tongue and shake your head, trying to get your wayward thoughts under control, remembering that age old adage: _Loose lips sink ships._

                “Are you okay?” he asks slowly, looking you over.

                “Fine,” you reply simply. You take a deep breath in and let it out. _Okay, focus._ “So, you uh, got my message? Right? That I was trapped?” He nods his head slowly, and a grin spreads across your face. “I knew it. I knew you’d come through for me.”

                He tilts his head to the side. “And how were you so sure of that?”

                “Because you like me,” you say simply. He visibly flinches, and you roll your eyes. “It’s not a crime, you know. People like me, I’m a likeable person.”

                “I don’t like you,” he says, and you narrow your eyes at him. He lets out a long breath. “But I don’t _dislike_ you.”

                “Well, that’s something,” you say. “So why are you here? Are you going to try to read my mind again?” He hesitates, but you don’t even notice as you continue blathering on. “Because it’d probably be easy to do right now. I did knock a little bit of the wall in my head down to call out for you, and I’m glad we have that connection now otherwise I might still be stuck in that room, okay, well, I probably would’ve starved to death by now, but at any rate-”  

                “Are you drunk?” he asks, and you spread your hands out in front of you like a child pleading innocence.

                “It’s real wine from Alderaan,” you say, a little annoyed with yourself for how childish you sound. “Like, can you blame me?”

                He shakes his head. “I should go.”

                “No,” you say firmly, and he turns around to look at you. You’re about to grab his arm, but you freeze under his intense gaze.

                “Are you attempting to give me orders?” he asks, his voice dark.

                “No,” you say in that same stern voice. “I’m attempting to stop you from making a mistake.”

                He raises his eyebrows, as if he’s decided to humor you. “And what mistake would that be?”

                “I don’t know when’s the last time you’ve been touched,” you say. “But I liked it when you touched me. And I think you liked it when I touched you back. And someone made me realize lately that being touched is, well, good, so I think we should keep touching each other.” You close your eyes and bite your tongue, aware of how utterly stupid that whole thing sounded. When you open your eyes, he’s staring at you with the most peculiar expression on his face. “You know what, just go back to choking me again. Torture me, whatever, at least that will get me to shut my mouth.”

                “There are other ways to do that,” he says softly.

                “Oh, well, yeah,” you say. “I mean, you could always-”

                He surprises you by putting his mouth over yours and you reach up to kiss him, running your hands through his hair. You moan against him as he sits down on the end of your bed, and you quickly sit up and straddle him, wrapping your legs around his waist. He slides off his gloves and you can feel the warmth of his hands as they slide down your back. You’re honestly surprised he’s kissing you, but then again, you probably taste like sweet Alderaanian wine right now. That shit really was _that_ good, and idly you distract yourself by wondering if he had ever tasted it before.  

                “Are you still trying to distract me to get into my head?” you ask him as he breaks the kiss to move his lips against your neck.          

                “Stop talking.” It’s more of an order and you do as you’re told as you let him touch you. Occasionally his hands dip underneath your shirt, running against your bare skin, but he doesn’t try to put his hands in your pants again. You let him plant gentle kisses along your collarbone, holding your head by the nape of your neck so you can’t squirm or pull away. You wouldn’t have tried even if you could. You let him kiss you how he wants to kiss you, let him touch you how he wants to touch you, without resisting any of it. It was like he was exploring your body in an attempt to figure out which kisses and caresses would illicit the best reactions, and you quietly moaned and purred as he touched you, urging him on.

                Eventually you rest your head against his shoulder, and he puts one arm around you as he strokes your hair down your back. Your hair had come out of your ponytail, but you couldn’t remember exactly how or when, not that that was really important.

                “I don’t get it,” you say quietly. “Why aren’t you trying to get inside my head? It would probably be so easy right now.”

                “Don’t tempt me,” he says, just as quietly. “But I’m not going to take advantage of you. I want you to open your mind to me because you can; I’m not going to force you again.” You think back to when he had choked you. He was clearly still feeling guilty about that; you could hear it in his voice.

                “Because you like me,” you say with some finality.

                He stiffens. “I don’t like you.”

                “Okay,” you say, letting out a deep breath. “You don’t like me.”

                “You’re a weakness,” he says, and suddenly something clicks in your head. You’re not _a_ weakness, you’re _his_ weakness. Somewhere along the line, he really had stopped trying to get into your head and started trying to get into your pants instead. Or maybe one still led to the other. You weren’t quite sure. Either way, he had feelings for you, and it was plainly obvious that he was as confused by them as you were.

                “No I’m not,” you say softly, reading the situation as best you could. You speak slowly and clearly, emphasizing each word. “You’re the great Kylo Ren. You don’t have any weaknesses. I’m just a pawn at your disposal. You’re just using me as you see fit.” You sit up slowly, looking him in the eye, and he regards you wearily, like a wild animal being approached by something much larger and more formidable. “You’re still using me for your own ends, trying to wind me down, trying to get me to let down my defenses so you can get inside my head. That is your primary objective and everything else is just-” you place a hand on his chest as your lips move closer to his, whispering the last word. “-incidental.”

                He grabs the back of your head with both of his large hands and kisses you roughly, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth before he wraps both arms around your back and pulls you close to his chest. He kisses you so fervently and urgently that you can tell you struck a nerve with him, feeding him exactly what he wanted to hear. You weren’t exactly sure how you knew to say the right thing, especially when you had been wondering for days what exactly had been going on between you, but this seemed to be the right answer. It all fit. That’s why he kept running away from you and that’s why he kept coming back. He had feelings for you, but he considered it a weakness. If you could convince him that this was his idea, that his weakness was actually a strength, then, well, you might get to see more of him.

                You kiss him back with equal passion, and it almost felt like an electric current was steadily building between you. Was it the Force at work? Was it another kind of connection entirely that let you contact him so easily? Whatever it was, you didn’t want to fight it. For the first time in a long time, you knew what you wanted. You wanted to spend the day interpreting and working with Taro. You wanted to come back and joke around with Sadie and the others before dinner. You wanted to spend your nights drinking and goofing off with Ladson, and then you wanted to spend your early mornings like this, being kissed and caressed by Kylo Ren. That was what you wanted. That was what made you happy.

                Of course, the problem with that was that there were too many players on the board. It meant that your happiness basically depended on everyone around you falling into the mold of your little plan. What if Sadie decided she wanted to spend her days reading instead of talking to you? What if Ladson ran out of wine and decided that he didn’t want to spend time with you anymore? What if Kylo Ren stopped coming by completely? You couldn’t dwell on these thoughts, these fears. Fear would only make you bitter. No, you would remain cautiously optimistic, as always. The best thing that you could do was to be direct about what you wanted and hope things worked out for the best.

                “I should get going,” he murmurs against your lips. He had been there for over an hour, just kissing and holding you. You weren’t exactly looking for more; this was good for right now.

                “Come back tomorrow,” you tell him as you slide off of his lap.

                “Maybe,” he responds, but he seems disinterested.

                You grab a hold of his hand. “Tomorrow,” you repeat, looking up at him. “You can try to get into my mind then.”

                “Maybe,” he repeats, but he bends down and kisses your forehead before he slides on his helmet and walks out the door.

                You shut the door behind him and slink into bed, curling your arms around your pillow. “You did your best,” you whisper quietly to yourself. “That’s all you could have done.”

                The next night, you goof around with Ladson, but you don’t drink as much as you usually do. The sparring is a welcome distraction, and you basically have to pay attention so as not to get kicked upside the head, but you can’t help but feel like the time is passing too slowly. Eventually you shoo Ladson away with the excuse that you’re tired and crawl into bed. That was it. He wasn’t coming. You mope into your pillow like a schoolgirl with a bad crush, but you don’t feel as bad as you could have. Your little speech had been endearing and honest, to some extent. It had been bullshit, to be frank, but you knew it was what he wanted to hear, and if that was the excuse he wanted to give himself to see you, then so be it. As long as you could see him, whatever tricks or mind games he played with himself didn’t really bother you all that much.

                You crack a grin as you realize that you were subtlety manipulating him, whether it was consciously done or not, it was manipulation all the same. Ladson would be proud. Maybe you shouldn’t be afraid of Kylo Ren; maybe Kylo Ren was the one who should be afraid of you. You had always liked being an interpreter because you could live in that world of grey, dangling on the edge between right and wrong, where nothing really affected you. And now? Now you were coming into your own and realizing that you still inhabited that world of grey. You hadn’t exactly killed anyone, but could you say for certain that you were a good person? You were selfish but kind, cowardly yet bold, embodying a series of paradoxes. So did that make you a good person? A bad person? Or something in between? It felt like you were starting to slip over to the dark side, but you couldn’t be sure if that was you accepting a dormant part of yourself, or if you were merely being spun into a product of your environment.

                “Stop thinking and go to bed,” you whisper to yourself. You’re about to drift off to sleep for good when you hear a knock at your door. It’s not coming from the living room. You peek open one eye and grin. Dark side, light side, who cared? As long as you were getting what you wanted, you were happy. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was chapter 13. We are two chapters away from being halfway through this adventure!! Until tomorrow, cheers!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW content ahead

                “Quiet,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. He quickly moves his hand flat against your open mouth in an attempt to stifle your moans.

                “Can’t,” you pant through his fingers. You can feel the warm, smooth skin of his back under your fingertips as he gently presses kisses against your collarbone, running his tongue up along your neck before he presses his lips to yours.

                “It’s late,” he says with a hint of finality, his face hovering directly above yours. He’s so close, the tip of his nose is just brushing against yours, and it’s all you can do to resist the temptation to reach up and kiss it.

                “It’s early,” you tease. You both roll over to look at the clock on your nightstand and realize that he’s here an hour later than he usually is. You both release an appreciative chuckle at the same time, embarrassed with yourselves for getting so caught up in each other. “Stay?” you mumble weakly as you press your forehead into his chest. “Just until I fall asleep?”

                He lets out a breath, resting a hand in your hair. “Will that be soon?”

                You can feel his heartbeat through his chest and you close your eyes, intoxicated by just the smell of him. He’s so warm and so comfortable and his embrace is so oddly soothing that you let yourself relax completely. “Five minutes,” you tell him.

                You’re out in two.

                Over the course of the next two weeks, Kylo Ren had visited you every other night like clockwork. You would sit in his lap or lie on your bed and make out for a while, and sometimes he would try to get in your head, sometimes not. He didn’t try to get into your pants again, and you were fine with that. He wasn’t getting into your head either, although you didn’t think he was trying very hard. At the first sign of pain he would immediately back off and kiss you again, as if you were some delicate creature that he didn’t want to harm. He was surprisingly tender with you after those nights, his kisses becoming soft and gentle, and you wondered how long it would be before he could no longer his deny his feelings and consider his affection for you a weakness. Those were thoughts that you had but did not entertain, especially in his presence.

                Unfortunately, being around Kylo Ren so much had a drastic effect on your mood. You were happier, sure, happier than you ever thought you could be on the Starkiller Base, and everyone questioned it. Ladson and Sadie were the only ones who knew a little bit of the truth, but neither of them knew the whole story. Ladson just thought you were seeing someone, and that’s all he had to know. Sadie had assumed you were intimate with Kylo, but for all she knew, you were doing this solely for your own survival. You didn’t talk to her about whatever feelings you had for him, or whatever feelings were quickly developing. You could admit them to yourself now, and that was a good start, but you weren’t ready to share them with anyone else just yet, not even Sadie. The less they both knew, the better. You were secretly enjoying the time you were spending with Kylo, and you were afraid that if they knew the extent of your feelings that they would encourage you to break it off for your own good. That was not something you wanted to have to deal with, ever, especially when you knew your time here was so short, and so you kept silent.

                B and C and Shayne had noticed and had made idle comments about your buoyant demeanor, but they had no way of suspecting the truth, and so their observations were limited to just that, observations, and nothing more. Unfortunately, you couldn’t fool Taro so easily. He could pick up on your emotions, you were sure of that now. What was worse was that he had somehow found out that there was nothing going on between you and Ladson, which meant that he knew you had been lying to him for weeks. You didn’t like to think of it as lying. Instead, you preferred to think of it as telling a selective truth. You had been honest that you were involved with somebody; you had just simply lied about who. It wasn’t any of Taro’s business who you were involved with, anyway, but he didn’t see it that way, and one day, he decided to confront you about it.  

                After a typical assignment, Taro gestures for you to stay seated, and you do, figuring that this was just going to be one of the usual casual chats that you two sometimes had after his meetings. In reality, you probably should have seen this conversation coming, but lately your thoughts had been so distracted by focusing on the next time you were going to see Kylo that you hadn’t been paying as much attention to everyone around you.

                That would later prove to be a costly mistake, but of course, you had no way of knowing that.

                Taro gestures between you and himself as he makes the sign for _friend._

 _Friend,_ you repeat, lifting the corners of your lips in a genuine smile. You make a fist with each hand and slam them down on top of each other lazily, the index finger on both hands extended. _Right._

He shakes his head. He crosses his index and middle finger, the casual sign for _best friends_ , before he jerks his fingers apart violently.

                You know what that means: _unfriended_.  

                Your eyes go wide as you stare at him, tapping your knuckles against your chin. _What’s wrong?_

                He looks at you and makes the sign for _lie_ before he looks away. You cover your face with your hands, more embarrassed than anything else. _Ladson,_ he makes the L-shape by his forehead and shakes his head. _Kylo Ren._

You don’t have a good excuse to defend yourself with. _He’s trying to enter my head_. That was at least sort of true, but Taro just shakes his head.

                _Why lie?_

You let your mouth drop open and a pitiful sound that Taro can’t hear comes out. You pout at him miserably. How were you supposed to tell him that spending time with Kylo Ren had made you happier than you had been in ages? How were you supposed to tell him that you couldn’t tell anyone because you knew it was wrong, because you knew they would react this way? It would only put the blame on them, and that wasn’t fair. While you’re trying to figure out how to explain yourself, Taro holds up his index finger in one hand and brings it crashing down onto his open palm, letting it bounce slightly.

                “Oh no,” you whisper as you pick up your hands. _No, I’m not falling in love with him._

Taro holds his open palm and moves it in a circle in front of his face, the back of his hand facing you. _It’s written all over your face._

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to say. Slowly you hold out your hands and make the sign for _weak._ Taro nods his head quickly, as if this was clearly evident by your actions.

                _Has he gotten into your head?_

                You shake your head. Your secret was out now, might as well be honest. _No, I don’t think he’s trying very hard._

 _Good_ , Taro signs, making the sign for _prevent. Don’t let him._

 _How did you know?_ You look up at him suddenly. _How did you know I’m involved with Kylo Ren?_

He hesitates for a moment before he sighs. Slowly, reluctantly, he makes the S-shape with his fist and shakes it back and forth. _Sadie._ At first you don’t want to believe it, you can’t. You have to be reading his sign wrong. But you’re not. He looks away from you and lets his eyes slip closed. There are no misunderstandings here. Sadie had betrayed you.

                You get up out of your chair so fast it almost falls over. You stalk down the hall so quickly and with such purpose that Storm Troopers jump to get out of your way as you storm through the corridors leading back to your room. Your anger is fueled in part because of his honesty. You had been lying to him for the past few weeks, refusing to tell him about Kylo Ren, but when you had asked him who revealed your secret, he hadn’t kept that from you. He hadn’t played games; he had told you the truth plainly, directly. It made you wish that you had been honest with him. Maybe he wouldn’t have judged you. Maybe he would have supported you, talked to you about it, helped you try to figure out what you were really feeling. But there was no way to know that now.

                You finally get inside, and are extremely, extremely lucky to find Sadie sitting on the living room couch, alone.

                “You bitch,” you snarl, and you can feel tears welling up in your eyes. She immediately jumps up and drops the book that she was reading on the table in front of her.

                “What happened?” she asks, her eyes wide, as if she really doesn’t know what’s going on.

                “You told Taro?” you demand. “About me and-” you hesitate, still not daring to say his name. You don’t know who else may be around, after all.

                Sadie breathes your name as she closes her eyes. “Look, I’m sorry, it just slipped out, okay? It was a mistake.”

                “A mistake?” 

                “I didn’t know what to do,” Sadie says at length. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? But I mean, I’ve known you for years. I can see you. You’ve looked so happy lately and I can see you falling for him. But that’s not good. You know who he is. You know we’re in danger here, we’re all in danger.”

                “What happened to just having fun?” you ask. “What happened to enemies with benefits?”

                “That was before-” She opens her mouth and then shuts it again, turning away.

                “Oh, what, now you’re keeping secrets?” you demand. “I’ve been telling you everything.”

                “Not everything,” she says darkly, and there are tears forming in her eyes as well. “You haven’t told me anything lately, but I can still see you. I can see-”

                “So, what?” You can’t listen to her excuses. You can’t allow yourself to feel guilty for not being more open with her either. “You just told Taro-”

                “Not Taro, only my Tortutaru,” she explains. “He told Taro. B and the others don’t know about him. I-” she hesitates. “I wouldn’t do that.”

                “Oh gee, thank you so much,” you snap at her. “Thank you for being such a great friend and keeping a secret only around _some_ people.”

                “You don’t understand,” she almost wails. “You don’t know what’s going on. We’re in danger, you most of all.”

                “What kind of danger?” you ask her, crossing your arms over your chest. You’re not sure if she means it or if it’s just a tactic to distract you from her own guilt. “Go ahead, I’ll wait.”

                “I-” She shakes her head. “I can’t tell you. I can’t think about it.”

                “Well, isn’t that just fantastic?” you ask. “I’m apparently in danger, but you don’t even know what I’m in danger from.” She opens her mouth to speak. “Or even better, you know and just won’t tell me. I’m so glad you’re such a great friend, really, what would I do without you?”

                She says your name again, quietly, but you don’t care. You can’t forgive this, at least not right now.

                “You know something?” you ask her. “At least me and Kylo, we don’t have any illusions about what’s going on. We both know how fucked up it is, we’re both using each other, we know that, but at least we can be honest with each other about it. He doesn’t even like me and he’s honest with me. But you? You’re supposed to be like my sister, and yet you-” You shake your head, unable to continue. “If I’m in such terrible danger from him, then tell me. Tell me right now what I’m in danger from.”

                She shakes her head from side to side as she says your name again. “I can’t, please I can’t-”

                “You’re unbelievable,” you shout at her. “Un-fucking-believable.”

                You turn around and walk into your room, slamming the door behind you. Sadie doesn’t try to get you to come out. The others do, when they come back, and you can hear Sadie sobbing in the living room, but to her credit you don’t think she’s told them anything. You don’t go out to dinner that night, despite their urging, opting instead to sit in your room and pout like a petulant child in a self-induced time-out. You know that failing to show up for dinner is going to incite their curiosity all the more, but you can't bring yourself to care. You couldn’t have even eaten anything right now if you tried.

                You think about Taro. He had felt betrayed that you hadn’t been up front and honest with him about Kylo Ren, but how could he really be mad at you for that when there were things that he hadn’t been telling you? Had he been telling Sadie? She obviously knew something she shouldn’t. And why was she blathering on about how you were in such terrible danger? You knew Kylo Ren; you knew him better than she did, at any rate. You probably knew him better than half the Storm Troopers on this base. He could be brutish and impulsive and reckless, you had seen that side of him, but he could also be gentle and caring. He was driven by fear, or anger, or both, and while that made him unpredictable, and thus dangerous by default, at least you knew what to expect from him. But Sadie? The others? They had only divulged what they wanted to when it benefited them, although it hurt you to admit that the same held true for you as well. You laugh bitterly to yourself. Here you were, stuck on the Starkiller Base with the First Order, supposedly the most evil place in the galaxy, and you lot were the most malicious, wicked people on base. The irony of that was not lost on you.

                You are still fuming by the time you hear the familiar knock on your door, and you open it with a huff. Kylo Ren walks through and takes off his helmet immediately. By now this was nothing unusual; he had usually started stripping down out of his armor when he came in to be closer to you after you had complained that you could barely feel him through his armor. You were almost surprised by how immediately and how amicably he had responded to your request, but then again, you supposed it was because he wanted to feel closer to you as well. You still hadn’t really been any more intimate with him than you had been on that first day, but in a way, you were more intimate with him than ever, just lying on your bed kissing him, running your fingertips against his bare, warm skin, just relishing the feeling of him underneath your hands.

                “What’s wrong?” he asks as he starts to take off his armor, starting with his boots. You watch him from the bed, still in a sulk.  

                “Nothing’s _wrong_ ,” you tell him. “I just had an argument with someone. It’s stupid. It doesn’t matter.”

                He waits until he’s dressed down to his shirt and pants before he climbs onto the bed next to you, kissing your forehead. “I’m probably going to regret asking this, but what happened?”

                “It’s just Sadie,” you sigh. You don’t want to be talking about Sadie; you want to be kissing him. But he tenses, and you suddenly realize what’s wrong. Even though he couldn’t really get into your head, he could still read you better than anyone else on this base. _Oh no._

                “Does she know?” he asks stiffly. “About us?”

                You open your mouth but no sound comes out. He closes his eyes and sits up immediately, swinging his legs out of bed. You grab his arms, his shoulders, trying to keep him there. “Kylo, please-”

                Suddenly he spins around, his fingers finding your throat. You don’t fight him. You don’t resist him. He squeezes your throat and you just tense, your eyes pleading with him silently as they meet his burning gaze. He eventually loosens his grip. “I should have seen this coming,” he says bitterly, his voice dripping with venom. “I should leave and never return.”  

                “You still haven’t gotten into my mind yet,” you remind him, almost a bit desperately. You can hear it in his voice that he means it. He really will leave, and he won’t come back. The thought scares you, terrifies you.

                “That hardly matters when-” He moves to get up, but you hold him down on the bed next to you. He’s much stronger than you are, and he can probably get up and push you away if he wanted to, but you can’t help but hold him as tightly as you can. He can’t go, not now, not yet, not when you realize that he’s ironically one of the people that you trust the most right now.  

                “So you’re just going to leave without finishing what you started?” you demand. He turns around and glares at you, but there’s a chink in his armor. He’s waiting for you to make your argument. He’s waiting for you to convince him to stay. “Just do it. I’ll let you in and then you’ll have what you came here for. Then you can leave and I won’t try to stop you.”

                “I’ll leave,” he says firmly, turning his upper body to face you. “And you will never see me again.” His eyes burn into yours, waiting for your answer.

                “Fine,” you snap, and suddenly his lips are on yours, his hands twisting in your hair. You gasp loudly as he rolls on top of you, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pushing your hips into his. He kisses you back fervently, urgently, desperate and greedy to soak up every last inch of you. You slide your hands down his back, suddenly realizing that you need to make this last as long as possible, in case he does make good on his threat. You can’t fathom being without him right now, but you had always known that this was going to happen eventually.

                He presses his palm against your temple and you feel a sharp jolt of pain roll through you. You groan and shake your head rapidly from side to side, trying to shake him off, and suddenly you find your hands pinned to either side of your head. “No,” you gasp. Your hips roll up to meet his involuntarily, but your vision blurs as you find yourself back in the room again, the brick wall shuddering in front of you. Bricks are starting to slide outwards, protruding at awkward angles, and you desperately try to keep the wall up with your hands, pushing the bricks back into place before they can slip through.

                “Let me in,” he whispers in your ear, his voice low and husky, as he nips at your earlobe. The pain is intense and you shudder beneath him as hot tears burn in your eyes. He stops his assault for a moment as he moves his lips into the hollow between your jaw and your neck, placing gentle kisses along your throat. You try to move your hands again but they are pinned there, and the most you can do is twitch your fingers.

                “Let me in,” he repeats as he presses his fingertips to your temple again. You feel another sharp burst of pain as you tremble beneath him. You can feel him thundering against the bricks but it hurts so, so much and you can’t help but cry out, biting your lip in a desperate attempt to stay quiet. He stops again, placing his hand over your mouth, and you rake in a shuddering breath. His eyes search yours, nervous and unsure.

                “I’m fine,” you murmur. You’re not, you’re not fine at all, but you have to be. “Keep going.”

                He tears his eyes away from yours and seems to consider something for a moment before he kisses you again, moving his hand away from your temple to stroke your cheek. Suddenly you can move your hands again and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer to you. You reach your hand underneath his shirt, trying to feel as much of him as possible, when he stops, pulling away from you slightly.

                “What’s wrong?” you ask breathlessly.

                “Let me see you.” He holds your chin in one hand, his eyes burning into yours. You stare back, not sure what he’s looking for. If he’s looking at you to see what you want, well, that should be obvious. You stare back, trying as hard as possible to make your needs apparent. If you really were never going to see him again, then you had nothing to lose now. At this point, you were ready to give him everything.  

                He sits up suddenly, and you’re afraid he’s going to go before he pulls his shirt off over his head. Your eyes rake over his bare chest, and his lips perk into a smirk as he watches your reaction. Your fingertips trace the muscles in his upper arms for a moment before you lean forward, arching your back off the bed, as you remove your own shirt. He sucks in a breath as he looks down at you, biting his lower lip appreciatively. Now it’s your turn to smirk as he cups your breasts in both hands. You throw your head back and let a low moan escape your throat.

                Suddenly he pulls himself into a seated positon, grabbing your thighs as he pulls you onto his lap. You gasp in surprise at your sudden proximity, and you hesitate for a moment, just looking at him, before he suddenly kisses you again, pulling you closer. You wrap your legs around him and drape your arms around his neck, pressing your bare chest against his. His body is warm against yours, and you fist your hands in his hair. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you towards him, and you begin grinding against him, relishing the sudden friction. You groan softly and roll your head back, breaking the kiss, and he takes advantage of your position to kiss your neck, his hand planted firmly against the nape of your neck.

                He rests his cheek against your shoulder as he runs a finger down your neck, over your collarbone before he takes your breast roughly in his hand, teasing the nipple with his thumb and forefinger. You gasp and your eyelids flutter as you continue grinding into him, rolling your hips, desperate for more sensation. You’re urging him on, your hands planted on either side of his shoulders as you thrust against him. He growls, low in his throat, as he presses his lips against yours again. His hands suddenly appear on your shoulders as he pushes you back against the pillows, and you look up at him. “I’m ready,” you breathe. You’re not sure if you really are, but you don’t want to give him time to overthink this. You don’t want to give yourself time to overthink this either. This may be your last chance to be with him, and you know that if you don’t take this chance now, you’re going to regret it later.

                For a moment he looks nervous, but it’s only for the briefest of moments and you almost can’t be sure you saw it at all. But you did, you know you did. If you didn’t see it in his face, then it was through his mind, through the Force, through whatever strange connection you had with him. But he wants this as badly as you do, you can sense that too, and so you make no comment as he readies himself, moving off the bed and standing up to remove his pants. You do the same, lifting your butt off the bed as you struggle out of your shorts, kicking them off with your feet.

                You’re naked in front of each other now, with him on his hands and knees above you, but you can’t pull your eyes away from his face. He is gazing at you so intently now he almost looks scared, and you cup his cheek in your hand. You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to do this, but you can sense his need. Was he trying to sense yours as well? Regardless, you wait for him to make the first move. Slowly, very slowly, he moves himself between your legs and you put your ankles around his, scooting up a little bit further in the pillows to position yourself at a better angle. He wraps his arms around you suddenly, pulling you close to him, and you put your hands on his shoulders for leverage.

                You can feel him positioning himself at your entrance and you swallow suddenly, more nervous than he is. He bows his neck slightly and plants a gentle kiss against your cheek, and then your forehead, and you stiffen as you feel him pushing into you. You both cry out at the same time, his grunt mixing with your moan, as he pushes himself all the way inside of you. You wrap your legs fully around his back now, pulling your hips towards his. He stills for a moment, his full length inside of you, before he begins moving his hips slowly, getting accustomed to the sensation.

                “Kylo,” you whisper softly, brushing his hair out of his face with one hand, and he suddenly thrusts deeper inside of you, starting a constant, steady rhythm. You buck your hips against his, trying to match it, trying to go as fast as he is. You can feel yourself building and you whimper against his lips as your fingertips run over his broad shoulders and down his back. His rhythm is tempered slightly as he pulls one arm out from underneath you, and you stiffen as you realize what he’s about to do.

                “No,” you gasp as he puts his hand on your temple. You want to push him away but you’re delirious with sensation now, and your eyelids close as you find yourself back in the room. Suddenly, the walls don’t appear white anymore. They are ashen grey, as if covered by soot. You look around you and see the brick wall in front of you, crumbling into bits. You throw your palms flat up against it to try to keep it in place. You can feel it throbbing with a pulse underneath your hands, in time to his thrusts, and you realize that it’s going to fall when you give way.

                “No, no,” you gasp, but his speed only intensifies, and you screw your eyes shut tightly as you feel yourself building with sensation, getting closer to your inevitable defeat. The bits of brick are starting to dissolve underneath your fingers, breaking into chunks of tiny pebbles as the wall begins to collapse, slipping through your fingers little by little. Rapidly, you try to push the tiny bits of brick back in place as fast as you can, but it’s like trying to construct a wall out of sawdust and it keeps collapsing into mounds around you, disintegrating into a fine powder.

                “Let go,” Kylo says through gritted teeth, and he jerks his hand away from you suddenly. The sudden pressure against your temple stops and for a brief moment all you feel is him, and him alone, the warmth of his body against yours and his constant thrusting inside of you, and you can’t fight him off any longer. You start to give, unwinding around him, and his lips pull back into a satisfied smirk as he keeps his rhythm going. Eventually he tenses and stills inside of you as he finds his own release and collapses on top of you, burying his face in your neck. Both of you are breathing heavily, and you just lie there, waiting for the worst to happen. The wall is gone now, totally gone. You are naked and helpless beneath him, too exhausted to even fight back. You are completely vulnerable. He could take whatever he wanted from you now; there was no stopping him.

                He shifts over slightly and places his hand flat on your stomach. You can feel his hot breath on the side of your face. You don’t know what to do or say, but you realize again this might be the last time you’re ever this close to him, and so you just savor the sensation of his overheated skin against yours. You try to focus on the physical sensations coursing through your body, afraid of which of your thoughts he might be skimming through at this very moment. Eventually he finds his breath and moves a little ways away from you, although his hand remains flat against your stomach.

                “Are you going to do it?” you ask at length. You can’t take it anymore, not knowing whether or not he is or isn’t inside your head. You don’t want him to go, but at the same time, you want to get this over with. He lets out a breath and his eyes skim over your face. He doesn’t look conflicted, but then again, you can’t read this particular expression. You’ve never seen it before. “The wall is gone now. It’s gone. You can take whatever you want from me.”

                He puts his hand on the side of your head and you close your eyes and prepare yourself for the worst. You expect to feel something, anything, any jolt of pain, but it doesn’t come. “I can get in now,” he says as you open your eyes. “But I won’t.”

                He stands up quickly, as if he’s said too much, and you look up at him, your jaw slack. But you don’t even have time to process this development as he starts to pick up his clothes. Suddenly, a frantic jolt of adrenaline rushes through you as you make your decision. You don’t want him to go, not now, not ever. You remember what you said to yourself before. If you want something, you have to ask for it directly.

                “Stay with me,” you say, trying to keep your voice level. “Please, don’t leave yet.”

                He doesn’t answer. Instead, he seems to move faster as he struggles to get into his pants. You can’t watch him go, and instead try to distract yourself by wiping the mess between your legs with one of the loose sheets. He turns around and watches you idly for a moment before he curses to himself, his tight pants halfway up his thighs. He continues cursing, and you’re not sure what you should do or if you should be afraid before he kicks his pants off again. He’s radiating frustration, but he climbs back in bed beside you and wraps his arms around your waist, pressing his lips firmly against the back of your neck.

                You’re both tense, lying there for a few moments, before you begin to relax into him. You can feel the steady inhale and exhale of his chest and you force your breathing to match his. He’s going to be gone in the morning, you realize this, and you’re hit with a sudden wave of sadness at the thought. Slowly, you roll over to face him. He opens his eyes and looks at you, almost surprised, as you put your hand against his cheek and kiss him softly. You pull away, avoiding his eyes, and nuzzle into his chest, savoring the feeling of his arms around you.

                This would be the last time you would kiss him, you were sure of it. This would be the last time he would ever lay with his arms around you, and you almost want to curse at yourself for not doing it sooner. The past two weeks had gone by so quickly, so rapidly, that you could barely make sense of them. Somehow, within the span of two weeks, your relationship had evolved from secret, stolen kisses in the night to this, with him lying naked on the bed beside you, your sticky juices drying against your inner thigh. It didn’t make any sense, but he was just as confused as you were, you could sense it. Maybe that was why you had suddenly become so quick to trust him. In the end, he wanted nothing from you except what you wanted to give him. And now you had given it to him. He had gotten what he wanted, and now he would leave, and probably avoid you for the rest of your short time here. It would have had to end eventually, you knew that, you had known that all along, but much like your feelings when he had first kissed you, it was a fear you had hoped you could deny for at least a short while longer.

                _I don’t want you to go_ , you think loudly, your inner voice trembling with unspoken emotion. There’s no wall now, and you know he can hear you. His body stiffens against you but he doesn’t make any move to let go or to try to comfort you. You close your eyes and try to focus on his breath, his heartbeat, the traces of his fingertips against your tender skin. You try to collect everything about this moment and commit it to memory, knowing it will never come again. Eventually though, the specific details of the event slip away into nothing but vague impressions as you drift off to sleep.

 

                Kylo Ren waited until your breathing had become regular before he slowly eased himself away from you. “I like you,” he whispered quietly, finally admitting his earlier lie only when he was sure you couldn’t hear him. “That’s why I have to go.” He leaned forward and kissed you in the hollow between your neck and your jaw. You didn’t stir, and he looked away. That was a shame; he always liked the way you drew a sharp intake of breath whenever he kissed that sensitive spot. But the fact that he knew to kiss right there, the fact that he knew exactly where to touch to illicit the best response, meant he had gotten too close. It was a weakness, he could see that now. Tonight you had let yourself become vulnerable with him, as if somehow knowing your vulnerability was linked directly to his. He could get into your mind now, easily, and for that reason alone, he had to stay away from you. He knew the affection you nurtured for him, but he couldn’t dare bring himself to actually look in your mind and focus on the extent of your feelings for him. If he did and saw that your sentiments matched his own, he would never be able to leave you alone, and so he refused to even bring himself to look.

                He dressed slowly, making sure not to leave a trace of himself behind, as if one forgotten scrap of emotion would keep him tethered to you forever. He couldn’t be bothered to remember how long you would still be here for, maybe ten weeks, maybe a little more, maybe a little less, but it didn’t matter. He was determined to avoid you until you were back on your home planet, and then you could be out of his thoughts once and for all. It was going to be an arduous ten weeks; now that the wall had been broken, your thoughts could easily flow to his mind and vice versa, which was even more of a reason for him to stay away.

                Finally dressed, he turned around to watch you sleep. He tried to think about how pitiful you looked, how ugly, with your disheveled hair and fresh hickeys on your neck, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t think less of you, and if he couldn’t bring himself to hate you, he would just have to settle for ignoring you. With one final look, he slipped his helmet over his head and turned around and walked out of the room, intent on never setting foot in your quarters again.

                It was a promise he made to himself, and a promise he kept. He never walked through that doorway again.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a bit longer getting out today. It's such an important chapter and there's a lot going on so I read it and reread it to try to get it perfect....but YEAH. I'M NOT SAYING ANYTHING ELSE. As always, you'll just have to wait until tomorrow!! Cheers!!


	15. Chapter 15

                You awaken to find yourself alone in bed the next morning. You sit up quickly, allowing your eyes to dart around the dimly lit room with eager optimism, but he’s not there. You close your eyes and curse to yourself. Of course he wasn’t there, you hadn’t expected him to be, and yet you cursed yourself for falling asleep all the same. You knew you wouldn’t have been able to convince him to stay, and you supposed you should have been grateful that he left while you were sleeping so you didn’t cause a scene or collapse in a fit of emotions, but all the same, you wish he had stayed. Kylo Ren was a man of his word, and if he said this was the last time you were going to see him, he meant it. He wouldn’t have gone as far as he had with you last night if he hadn’t.

                So he had finally gotten into your pants. You bite your lip and shake your head, resisting the urge to cry. He hadn’t gotten into your head, though. He could have, he could have quite easily, and yet he had decided against it, revealing his true motives. He liked you after all. Kylo Ren liked you, and now he was never going to see you again. “Well, aren’t I special?” you murmur to yourself. It’s early yet, and you take a quick shower. You don’t know what you’re going to say to Taro today. The wall was down now. Could he help you get it back up? You didn’t even know there had been a wall to begin with. Maybe it would gradually repair itself over time? You hadn’t a clue, but Taro was definitely the best person to give you answers. He wouldn’t be happy that the wall had collapsed, but what could you say? Kylo Ren was stronger than you. It was only a matter of time before he overpowered you eventually. You bite your lip, deep in thought. You were going to have to work on that lie if you wanted to make it sound more convincing. He didn’t overpower you; he had simply given you enough of a motive to make you give in to him. And after you had, you were no longer interesting. You were no longer a challenge.

                You can’t be alone right now. You can’t let yourself get stuck inside your own head and overthink this. You couldn’t exactly talk to Ladson about it, but at least he could cause enough of a distraction to help preoccupy your thoughts. You dress quickly and head into the living room. B and Ladson are already sitting quietly on the couch when you walk in, not speaking. They don’t even look up at you as you walk in. “Sit down,” B says quietly.

                The fine hairs on your arms prick up as you walk slowly into the room, sitting down on the edge of one of the couches. Ladson avoids your eyes. “What’s wrong?” Your voice is shaking, and Ladson just bows his head and shakes it from side to side, as if that was a question you shouldn’t have asked.

                “What were you doing last night?” B asks. His voice is so, so quiet, and you can feel yourself trembling.

                “Nothing,” you say lamely, but as soon as the word passes your lips, you know it’s the wrong thing to say.

                “We heard you,” Ladson says. “We heard, you know, noises.” You close your eyes as the realization comes over you. You knew you hadn’t exactly been quiet last night, but in the moment, you hadn’t cared. You figured they were all asleep anyway. You had been getting away with it for this long; you had just figured that no one would find out about it now.

                “It’s over now,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “We ended things last night. He’s not coming back again.”

                Ladson hears something in your tone and looks up at you, finally. He looks concerned as he chews his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I’m-”

                “Who was he?” B asks. He’s still not looking at you, and it suddenly dawns on you that you’re much more scared of B right now than you ever were of Kylo Ren.

                “Kylo Ren,” you say quietly. B looks up, not at you directly, but his gaze lifts slightly. Ladson just shakes his head.

                “That’s still not funny,” he says, and you sigh. You hadn’t really expected them to believe you, but at least you could appreciate that you had given them some small nugget of honesty.

                “Who was he?” B repeats.

                You want to make some joke like, “How do you know it was a he?” but it’s not funny. Nothing’s funny right now. It was as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room. “Some Storm Trooper.”

                “Some Storm Trooper,” B repeats. “And did you happen to interpret for him during the duration of your time here?”

                You don’t like the way he phrases that question. “Maybe once or twice.”

                “Maybe once or twice,” he repeats, and he looks up now, still not looking at you directly. Instead, when he speaks next, he addresses the doorway some distance behind you. “You do realize that in engaging in sexual relations with a client, you have broken numerous codes of ethics that were specifically outlined in your contract.”

                “I-” You start to speak, but he holds up his hand to stop you.

                “I am hereby releasing you from your contract,” he says firmly. “You are to have no further contact with any of the Tortutaru, especially Taro.”

                “But I need to talk to him-” B shoots you a look, and it silences you immediately.

                “Nor shall you have any communication with anyone else on this base, including Ladson, Sadie, or Shayne.” You stare at him, your eyes widening. Ladson just looks down and away. “Myself excluded, I will bring you meals twice a day, in the morning and at night. You are now prohibited from the living room and kitchen area. You will stay in your room, which will remain unlocked, for the duration of our stay, until we get back to academia.” He sighs and puts his hands together. “Hopefully this punishment is severe enough to dissuade you from making this sort of mistake again in the future.”

                You blink at him. “So you’re just going to lock me in my room until it’s time to go home?” He nods his head curtly. “But that’s not fair. It was only the once, and I told you, it’s over.”

                “I have reason to suspect it was more than once,” B says. You turn to Ladson, who avoids your gaze. “Either way, once is enough. You read your contract and agreed to the terms set within.”

                “Fine,” you say stiffly. They both look up at you, and if you can read their expressions right, they both look a little surprised. Clearly they hadn’t expected you to give in so easily.

                You don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You turn around and walk as calmly as you can back to your room, closing the door behind you. You lie back down on your bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to force your breathing to remain steady. You close your eyes and can almost feel the warmth of Kylo lying in bed next to you. That’s the final straw that pushes you over the edge. Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you roll over and bite into your pillow to keep from making too much noise. You can’t allow them to hear you cry, you can’t.

                You had identified what made you happy: working with Taro, hanging out with Sadie, playing around with Ladson, and kissing Kylo Ren. One by one, those things had all been taken from you, and now there was nothing left. Now you were really and truly alone. You wouldn’t even have your weekly self-defense lessons anymore. At the very least, you still had your staff, but you had to be careful and make sure B didn’t find that or he would probably take that away from you too. But to lock you in your room, by yourself, without any sort of communication for the rest of your time here? What would you do all day, for weeks on end, besides drive yourself mad?

                You roll over and wrap your arms around your pillow. You don’t dissolve into a puddle of emotions, you should be thankful for that, but you can’t be thankful for anything right now. B comes in a little while later to bring you a mug of tea and a plate of food. He sets it down on the desk wordlessly, but you don’t sit up. You don’t even look at it, let alone touch it. You were half considering starving yourself, but honestly, what good would that do? If you stopped eating, he would probably try to force feed you, or worse, just send you down to the medical ward and have them feed you through tubes for the rest of your time here. And what if Kylo Ren got word of what had become of you? What if he saw you, wasting away on a medical slab, scrawny and underfed, with needles sticking out of your arms? You shake your head. Disgusting. Pathetic. You wouldn’t let those be words used to describe you.

                You try to keep your thoughts quiet as you slip out of bed and onto the floor. You were distinctly aware that the wall was gone now, and you could probably reach out to Kylo Ren if you focused. That was why he had left, you realize sullenly, because now it was too easy to reach out to each other. As difficult as it was for you, you would respect him and his wishes. If he wanted to avoid you, so be it. You would not clog up his thoughts with idle pangs of longing. No, you were stronger than that. You would not let him know that you were locked in your room like some kind of prisoner. He didn’t want to hear your name again, and he wouldn’t. You would do your damnedest to make sure of that.

                You snicker quietly to yourself, imagining if B happened to mention your transgressions and subsequent punishment to General Hux and the others at their meeting this morning. Would Kylo Ren be there? If he was, what would he do? Would he get up and smash through a console again? Would he be apathetic? You honestly didn’t know, and you knew you shouldn’t care. It would probably be best to direct all thoughts away from him. It was going to be a difficult ten weeks as it was. Focusing on how much you missed him would only add to your misery.

                Sitting on the floor, you gradually push yourself to your knees, hands spread shoulder width apart, as you push yourself onto your toes. You hated doing push-ups, honestly, it was the worst thing. You had absolutely no upper arm strength to speak of, and they made you absolutely miserable. But you did them now. There was nothing else to do, quite frankly, and you’d be damned if you let your muscles atrophy and go to waste while you were here alone. You had books to keep you company, but that was beside the point. You were going to have to quickly learn to become your own best friend, or else your mental state was going to start deteriorating rapidly. You had thought that the first half of your time here had been hard, but at least you had been able to distract yourself. Now, there were no distractions. Now, it was just you, here, by yourself. You try to think of the positives, like how you wouldn’t have to worry about hiding your hickeys anymore. No more stupid scarves. The thought cheers you up mildly, and you force yourself to smile, showing your teeth. In one of your classes back at academia, they had told you that if you forced yourself to smile during stressful events, it could actually trick your body into making yourself happier. It had sounded like bullshit at the time and it sounded like bullshit now, but did you really have anything to lose by just trying it? Yes. You did. You felt like a lunatic, like someone slowly slipping off the edge of sanity, and you quickly shake your head and dispel the thought, letting your face drop back into a neutral position. No, you were going to feel what you were going to feel, and trying to delude yourself into thinking that this dilemma wasn’t as bad as it seemed would get you nowhere.

                Your arms are starting to get weaker now and you drop to your knees to make it a little easier, keeping your core tight as you slowly move your body up and down. Maybe you could do sit-ups next. Or crunches. It would also be a good time to play with your staff while everyone was at work. Heck, you could probably even use your datapad to make a workout schedule for yourself. One hour for push-ups, one hour for sit-ups, one hour of jogging in place…it would get tedious, after a while, but you had literally nothing else to do here, for ten weeks. You had better make the most of it.

                And you did, at least for a few days, probably at least three or four. You kept your thoughts quiet, your emotions muted. B continued to come into your room twice a day as promised to deliver your food. You didn’t look at him, and he didn’t look at you. No one came to try to talk to you, even at night, probably out of fear of their own reprimand. You didn’t care, or at least, you tried not to. You had yelled at Sadie the last time you had spoken to her. Would you be able to repair your relationship when you got back home? Maybe. Honestly, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to. You weren’t going to be the same person you had been when you first left academia, not after your experience with Kylo Ren, and not after ten weeks of pure, unadulterated solitude. You weren’t stupid. You weren’t trying to hold onto some last remaining shred of yourself. This was going to change you, you knew that. You didn’t know what you were going to change into, maybe some hardened, coarsened version of yourself, but you supposed you would just have to let it come and see what happened.

                In the meantime, you continued to work out, pushing your muscles to the point of exhaustion. The first day had been rough, but you had allowed yourself to collapse when you hit your point of fatigue, panting on the floor with your cheek pressed against the rough carpet. You had stayed that way for minutes, for hours, it didn’t matter. Time was no longer something that concerned you. The only thing that did concern you, though, was the coming and going of everyone around you. You knew that you could probably step into the kitchen or living room while they were gone, but honestly, what would be the point of that? B had told you that you were “forbidden” and although you didn’t know how he could make your punishment any worse, you didn’t dare test it. It wasn’t worth it.

                So you decided to just resign yourself to the confines of your room, working off of the small workout schedule that you had scribbled down, stopping only to sleep, or shower, or eat the small plates of food that B left you twice a day. It was a pattern that you fell into quite quickly, probably because you didn’t dare let yourself question it. You didn’t let your thoughts run wild like you had before. You would stay quiet, stay focused, and let things run their course. There was no use fighting something you couldn’t change. Idly, you almost wondered if you should try to focus on training yourself in the Force, but you didn’t know how to go about it, and it might summon Kylo Ren back into your thoughts, and that was a name you wouldn’t allow yourself to say, or even think. So you kept yourself quiet and stuck to training your body physically, deciding that when you returned to academia, you would not follow Kylo Ren’s advice. You would leave, hop on the first ship headed off the planet, and head far into the depths of the galaxy. You knew enough languages and cultures to blend in almost anywhere, he had been right about that, and if you were lucky enough to meet someone who would teach you how to pilot a ship, you could go anywhere yourself. But you had to be stronger first, both physically and mentally, and you hoped these ten weeks would give you enough time to do just that.

                Fortunately or unfortunately, there were forces at work, forces beyond your knowledge. You had always known that they were there, in the back of your mind, you had known that your presence on board was required for a reason, but you had never gotten enough information to be able to put the pieces together. Still, you had tried to puzzle it out regardless with the small bits of information that you had received, coincidentally or accidentally, trying to figure out if you were the good guy or the bad guy in whatever was going on around you. It would have relieved you to know that you were neither. Your presence on board was supposed to be neutral, and for all intents and purposes of the overall mission, it was. You had no idea about the conflict that lay both behind and in front of you. They had wanted to keep you as ignorant of the campaign as possible, and you had been. They had hoped that it would continue to go on all around you, like the air that you breathed into your lungs, circulating and flowing through you, without you being made aware of it directly. You would notice its absence, of course, but if you had just kept going about your business, your attention would never be called to it.

                It hadn’t been your fault. It had been a series of little slip-ups, a series of little mistakes. They would have caught on eventually, even if you hadn’t let your mind slip. And, truth be told, you had played your part quite well, considering you didn’t even know you were playing one. You had let something else slip, a name, and although that was one of the central pieces that allowed them to put everything together, that was hardly your fault. Maybe if they had told you what was going on from the start you would have known better, but you didn’t. No one told you anything. They thought it would be easier that way. In a way, they were right. In a way, they were wrong. At least they had gotten halfway through their objective. But you would never be sure if their mission was as successful as they hoped it would be.

                That night, as you lay sound asleep in your bed, your muscles sore and aching from your daily exertions, a troop of Storm Troopers marched down the corridor. There were six of them at each of the five doors. It was hardly necessary for there to be that many, but General Hux had been infuriated with the ruse going on as long as it had, and wanted you to feel the brute force of his anger firsthand. They opened up the door without bothering to knock, and as you slept, they pushed you out of bed, onto the floor, rolling you over onto your stomach. Your first thought as you blinked yourself awake was that Kylo Ren had come back for some reason or another, but as you saw the sea of white helmets over your shoulder, you knew what you feared in your heart to be true. This wasn’t just some assignment. They hadn’t just been withholding information for your safety; they did it to keep their motives as clandestine as possible. But apparently they had been discovered, and now you were going to have to pay the price.  

                At least you wouldn’t have to stay in this room anymore.

                “Are you going to come quietly?” you heard a Storm Trooper ask from directly behind you. Your arms were pressed uncomfortably into your back as you squirmed on the floor beneath them. You couldn’t fight all six of them when you couldn’t even get one to release you, but you would still put up a fight for as long as you could.

                “Nope.” Your eyelids fluttered shut as you felt the sudden electrical pulse of a stun blaster against your back. The last thought that swam through your mind before you slipped into unconsciousness was that you hoped you would at least find out the purpose of their mission here before the First Order decided to execute you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better pull out your umbrellas, because it looks like shit's about to hit the fan.


	16. Chapter 16

                You felt dizzy, your body ached all over, and you were slightly nauseous.

                These all would have been symptoms of overworking your muscles to the point of exhaustion over the past few days, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the cause of your ailments. You had been hit in the back with a stun blaster; that was the last thing you remembered before the world had slipped away from you. But now you sat up and took stock of your surroundings. You were in a prison cell, an empty room with plain white walls and no furniture, not even a bench to lie on. And you weren’t alone. B and C were in the back right corner of the room, furthest away from the door. B was crouched over C, who was lying prostrate on his back along the floor. There was a makeshift bandage wrapped around C’s head, and he appeared to be bleeding through it. He seemed to be unconscious, and idly you wondered if he was going to bleed out right here, in this cell, while the rest of you looked on. At least he didn’t seem to be in any pain.

                Sadie, Ladson and Shayne were gathered in the opposite corner of the room. Shayne appeared as stoic as ever, tucked firmly in the corner, staring straight ahead with cold and expressionless eyes. Ladson looked more or less the same, his face pale, although he had a bloody gash along one side of his cheek that looked like it was starting to swell. He sat with his arms around Sadie who was visibly shaking and rocking back and forth, her eyes red with tears. No one so much as glanced in your direction as you slowly pulled yourself to your feet.

                “Someone’s going to have to talk,” you say eventually, your voice sounding stronger than you feel. “Now that we’re captured, I believe you owe us some answers.”

                B turns around and glares at you, but it doesn’t faze you. Not right now, not ever again. You were going to die here, that was pretty much a given, and it was all his fault. The very least he could do was tell you _why_ he had led you to your untimely death. But he doesn’t answer, at least, not fast enough for your liking.

                “It’s a simple question,” you say as you approach him. “Why are we here?”

                “He already told us,” Shayne says softly, and you turn to look at him.

                “Then spill.” Your voice is firm, and they all look up at you like they’ve never seen you before. Maybe they had, maybe they hadn’t. You hadn’t spoken to anyone in days, and now you were going to die. There was no time for pleasantries, no time for idle chit-chat. You wanted answers, and if you had to break B’s nose to get them, you were going to do it.

                “You weren’t supposed to know,” B says eventually, and you turn back to him. “That was the point. You four weren’t supposed to know anything. The whole mission was a secret undercover infiltration program to determine how much the First Order knew about Force-sensitives.”

                “Go on,” you say. You still feel dizzy and want to sit down, but you’re in a position of power standing over him, and so you stay on your feet.

                “One of their Troopers was Force-sensitive and ended up betraying them on a crucial assignment,” B explains. “He made his way over to the Resistance where they believed he was being trained as a Jedi. At that point, the First Order became interested in learning about early detection of Force-sensitives, to harness their abilities or put them down before they posed a threat. They reasoned, correctly, that the Tortutaru could use their telepathy, or more specifically, their pneuma, to identify Force-sensitive individuals.”

                This was nothing that you didn’t know. Taro had already outed you to Kylo Ren as Force-sensitive. You gesture for him to keep going. “C and I, and the Tortutaru, have all been working with the Resistance,” B continues. “For weeks now, we have been giving them the names of troops that were Force-sensitive, and subtlety encouraging these troops through the Tortutaru’s telepathy to turn their backs on the First Order and to join with the Resistance through a variety of mental tactics.”

                “So that’s what those meetings were about?” you ask. “You didn’t care about what they said, you were just trying to get in their heads, trying to figure out who the Force-sensitive ones were so you could brainwash them against the First Order?”

                “In extremely simplistic terms, yes,” B says.

                “And what about me?” you ask. “Did you even think about testing us before bringing us on board? Did you think about what kind of danger we would be in? Taro even outed me to Kylo Ren himself.”

                B just shakes his head. “All part of the larger plan. Kylo Ren is quite capable of sensing Force-sensitives on his own, so we had to do a little mind messing of our own to make sure he couldn’t detect you, at least not right away, not until we wanted him interested in you.” You stare at him in shock, and B looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time. “You were our diversion tactic, and you played your part perfectly.”

                You can feel your skin growing cold. This entire time you had thought you were keeping such a big secret. Sadie and Ladson and even Taro knew bits and pieces, but you had thought B and C were totally in the dark. Apparently, they had known more than they had let on. “Explain.”

                “We knew that Kylo Ren would be able to probe your minds,” he explains. “We knew he didn’t want us here, and we knew we had to find some way to keep him distracted. Taro put a mental shield in your mind when you first met. It did more than just keep Ren out of your thoughts; it also made it difficult for him to discern whether or not you were truly Force-sensitive.”

                “But how?” you ask. “How would I be strong enough to do something like that when I didn’t even know that I was Force-sensitive?”

                “It wasn’t just your abilities,” B elaborates. “Taro and the other Tortutaru were able to use their mental capabilities to keep the ruse going, at least until you were able to take control and keep the mental barrier up yourself.” He averts your eyes now. “But setting it up to look like telling him that you were Force-sensitive was an accidental slip was the perfect bait. He became so preoccupied trying to figure out why he couldn’t figure that out for himself, why he couldn’t get into your mind, that he-”

                “Why me?” you demand. “There were probably other Force-sensitive people out there that were better suited for this mission; someone more powerful than I am that could have defended themselves better. Why did it have to be me?”

                “It had to be you,” B says quietly. “We needed real interpreters on board for this mission to make it look authentic, and the less you knew about your own sensitivity, the better. We couldn’t risk you drawing attention to yourself. I knew from your past that you would be strong enough, physically and mentally, to handle yourself here. But we had to keep him distracted. Sadie is pretty enough, but it would have been too obvious to send her in as bait. We had to send in someone more unassuming, someone-”

                “So you sent me,” you say. You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “So that first day when I met Taro, when he put his hand on my head-”

                “He set up the barrier then,” B confirms. “It was perfect. As soon as Kylo Ren saw you, he couldn’t get into your thoughts; he couldn’t quite figure out what to make of you. He couldn’t figure out how you were seemingly powerful enough to block him out completely without having any prior knowledge of the Force. We were all so pleased with the way he began to obsess over you, and with his attentions focused elsewhere, we could focus on getting the information to the Resistance without fear of his interference.”

                You swallow the lump that had been building in your throat. “So I really am Force-sensitive?”

                “Everyone has the Force to a certain degree, but you have a higher threshold than most,” B explains. “Taro told me that you were able to keep the wall up by yourself for longer than anticipated. You may not be strong enough to erect a barrier yourself, but you were at least strong enough to keep it going once it had already been placed there, at any rate.”

                “But Taro, he told me not to tell you,” you murmur. “He told me-”

                “We assumed it would be best if you didn’t talk about it, didn’t think about it.” He’s not looking at you now, he can’t. “But once you had torn down the mental barrier completely, we were worried that it might be dangerous to set it up again. We were afraid that Kylo Ren might suspect something if the wall suddenly reinserted itself at full power within a day, so we decided to withdraw you from the assignment permanently, for your own safety.”

                “By locking me away?” you demand, your voice rising. “By confining me to my room?”

                “It seemed to be the best solution,” B says quietly. “We knew you would be too proud to call out to him-”

                You stomp the floor with your foot, and B stops talking. It’s all you can do not to hit him. “You bastard,” you shout at him. “You don’t know shit about me.”

                “We know-”

                “Look at what you’ve done,” you shout. “Look at what you’ve done. You killed us. You fucking killed us all.” Sadie starts to cry, her sobs loud and heavy, but you don’t care. You don’t even turn to look at her. “And for what? So the Resistance can get the names of a few soldiers that _may_ defect and switch over to their cause?”

                “It’s more complicated than you know,” B says.

                “Then explain it,” you demand. “You said that the First Order wanted you here to collect the names of Force-sensitive individuals, right? But if Kylo Ren could sense them, then why were the Tortutaru needed at all?”

                “First, Kylo Ren has better things to do than to interview every single soldier and staff member on this base,” B explains. “Secondly, we were sure that not being able to sense that you were Force-sensitive would probably make him second guess himself, exploiting his own insecurities. Someone in the Resistance told us that he was very proud of how far he had developed his abilities, and if he felt that his strength was inferior to you, a girl who had no prior training-”

                “Stop, just stop.” You shake your head from side to side. Sure, Kylo Ren was supposedly a terrible, unscrupulous person, but manipulating him and making him doubt himself seemed almost cruel. But you couldn’t talk about Kylo Ren, not when there were still so many other questions that had to be answered. “So you gave the Resistance the names of people who were Force-sensitive?” B nods. “And what about the First Order? What have you been giving them?”

                “A mixture of names,” B says. “If we gave them a list of names containing no one that was Force-sensitive, they would have figured out what we were doing immediately. By mixing up the list of names to make it look like an even amount of both, they couldn’t be sure if some just displayed a higher aptitude for the Force than others.”

                “And what did they do with the names?” you demand angrily. “Did they train them? Or did they kill them?”

                “I don’t know,” B admits. “But that was not my concern. My concern was getting the names of troopers who were Force-sensitive to the Resistance so they could keep track of how many there were within the ranks of the First Order, and it was the Tortutaru’s job to encourage them to defect. You have to understand, the Force-”

                “I don’t give two shits about the Force,” you shout. You couldn’t believe that he would do this, B, of all people, who had been _raised_ to be neutral in disputes like these. “You were my teacher. What about all the shit you had been feeding us for _years_ about the role of interpreters? How we’re supposed to be neutral in conflicts like this?”

                B stands up now, glaring at you. “And I did my best to keep you neutral,” he says. “I did my best to make sure that none of you four had any idea of what was really going on.”

                “But we’re still here,” you yell back. “We’re still caught up in this mess because of you. Do you think the First Order _cares_ that we don’t know anything? You’re working for the Resistance, and we’re working for you. We’re guilty by default.”

                “You’re not guilty,” B says. “Because you never did anything wrong, and neither did we. We’re on the right side of this. The Resistance-”

                “You’re not supposed to be on any side,” you yell. You can’t believe how thick he is. “You weren’t supposed to be on any side, not on the side of the First Order or the Resistance. That’s what neutral _fucking_ means.”

                “That’s all well and good to preach in a classroom,” B snarls. “But in the real world, things are much different. There are people’s lives at stake. Good, innocent people, that are _dying_ at the hands of the First Order. Hundreds of innocent people, slaughtered.” He fixes you with his steely glare. “How many people do you think your precious Kylo Ren has killed? How many men? Women? Children? How many people has he run through with that lightsaber of his? How many people, innocent people, died by his hands, or his orders-?”

                You slap him across the face. You want to do a lot worse than that right now, but you can’t. You know it’s true. You know that Kylo Ren has probably killed innocent people, but that was the price of war. That was what happened. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. You had struggled to remain as objective as possible, determined to stick to your interpreting role, determined to stay a neutral entity. Evidently, B had been swayed, and now you were all going to die because of it.

                You turn back to the others. You want to say something, try to orchestrate them into a plan of escape, but there is no plan. Nothing you say matters now, unless – a sudden thought comes back to you.

                “You knew something, didn’t you, Sadie?”

                “Leave her alone,” Ladson says quietly as Sadie sobs into her knees.

                “The last time we spoke, you said that I was in danger,” you say quietly. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

                “I didn’t mean to,” she sobs. “I didn’t, I didn’t mean to.” You close your eyes and walk to the far corner of the room, away from them, resting your forehead against the wall of your cell. This was your fault. How had you been so stupid? You had let Sadie’s name slip. You had told Kylo Ren that Sadie knew about your relationship. _Relationship._ Ha, that sounded like such a stupid word to use at a time like this. Regardless, he had probably probed Sadie’s mind to find out how much she knew about him and you, and instead he had come up with the real reason as to why you were here.

                “It’s all my fault,” she wails, and you don’t argue with her. You’re not going to tell them that you pointed Kylo Ren in her direction in the first place. It wouldn’t do any good now. Besides, it wasn’t like you had actually known what you were doing. You obviously wouldn’t have mentioned her name if they had told you what was going on, and you definitely wouldn’t have slept with him if you knew you had been set up to be some stupid distraction for him. You would have kept that wall up in your mind, and you wouldn’t have allowed him even a crack. Instead, they had treated you like a ball and him like a dog and thrown you in a never-ending game of chase.

                All things considered, Kylo Ren had been downright civil to you the entire time. B and C, and even Taro, had all played you, groomed you for a role you didn’t know you were playing. But at least Kylo was as innocent as you were. They had used you, and they had used him. It was a disgusting feeling, and you could only imagine Kylo Ren’s rage right now. Maybe it was directed at you, maybe it wasn’t, but you could at least take some solace in the fact that apparently the most powerful person in the First Order wasn’t as evil as someone you had trusted for years.  Maybe Kylo Ren had killed hundreds of innocent people singlehandedly. You didn’t care. He hadn’t used you as bait without your knowledge. He hadn’t led you blindfolded into a metaphorical den of Rathtar, waiting to devour you limb from limb.

                It didn’t matter now. You slump against the wall and slide down it slowly, a little ways from everyone else. Being angry wasn’t going to help you now. No, you were all going to meet your slow deaths at the hands of the First Order. The least you could do was quiet your thoughts and go out with some dignity. You wouldn’t allow yourself to cry, or allow yourself to look weak in your final moments. Idly, you weren’t sure if you wanted Kylo Ren to be the one to do it. You didn’t know who would, to be honest. Maybe Captain Phasma? You didn’t want her to do it either, especially when she had been so kind to you. Even though it was unconsciously done, you still felt like you had betrayed her. You had just been a pawn in all this, but she probably didn’t know that. The thought depresses you, and you try not to think at all.

                Hours go by, and you lose track of counting. You slip in and out of your own thoughts before the door finally slides open again. You scooch involuntarily back towards Sadie and the others as three Storm Troopers walk in, wielding their blasters. They say your name, and you climb shakily to your feet. “Come with us.”

                “Where are you taking me?” you ask softly, your feet not budging an inch. Your heart is thumping in your chest, faster than it ever had before, and you’re afraid you’re going to pass out right then and there.

                “To be executed,” another one says, and you let your eyes slip shut. Sadie cries out from behind you and rushes forward, wrapping herself around your legs. Ladson comes up behind you and puts his arms around you, and even B gets to his feet.

                “No,” he says firmly, putting himself in front of you. “No, you’re not going to execute her. She didn’t have any part in this. She didn’t know anything about what was going on here. None of them did.”

                “We have our orders,” one of the Storm Troopers says as he steps forward, brandishing his blaster.

                “Take me instead,” B snaps. “Leave her alone. Take me instead.”

                “Shut up,” you snap at him. He looks at you, startled, and you push him out of your way. “You got us into this mess. Don’t you know what they’re doing? They know it’s your fault, so they’re going to kill us all one by one. First me, then Sadie, then Ladson, then Shayne. They’ll let you live with the guilt that you killed all of us until they kill you last. We’re all going to die; I just get the privilege of going first.”

                You turn around to face Ladson, and you give him a little nod. He puts his hands on either side of your head as he kisses your forehead in a final parting gesture. You suck in a deep breath as your eyes wander over to Shayne, but he’s not looking at you. Ladson quickly bends down and pulls Sadie back, pulling her away from you. She’s screaming and crying and lunging at you, but he holds her firmly as you pull out of her grip and walk towards the Storm Troopers, putting your hands innocently in the air as if in surrender.

                But you’re not going to surrender. You’re not going to let them just walk you to your death without a fight.

                Without warning, you reach forward and try to kick the Storm Trooper's knee in, knocking him slightly off balance as you try to wrestle the blaster away from him. But there’s three of them, and one of you, and you can feel the electrical pulse of a stun blaster in your back again as your eyes slip closed. You can only hope that if they really are taking you away to be executed, that they’ll do it while you’re still unconscious so you don’t have to feel a thing. If you really were innocent in all of this, they could at least provide you with the luxury of a painless death. Everyone had to die sooner or later, it was just one of those inconvenient facts of life, but if you had to die right here, right now, you wanted to just get it over with as quickly and as painlessly as possible.

                Hopefully your innocence could at least afford you that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes: According to Darth Plagueis' writings, pneuma was the part of the Force that was the expression of conscious thought. It was one of the three aspects of the Force, along with the aperion and the anima. Thinking, self-aware minds contributed to the collective pneuma, and it could be accessed by naturally telepathic species, as well as the various mind tricks by both the Sith and the Jedi. (From the Wookieepedia)


	17. Chapter 17

                Dizzy, upset stomach, muscle aches. Being stunned by a blaster was not fun, and you were starting to get more than a little annoyed by having it used on you not once, but twice, in such a short period of time. It would probably stop your heart if they did it to you a third time, but at this point, you couldn’t really care if it killed you, not when they told you that you were being taken to be executed.

                Only, judging by your surroundings, you were starting to doubt that would be the case. 

                As you sat up, you took stock of everything around you. You were in an expansive room with a large bed in the middle of it. It was big, and comfortable, and the pounding in your head wouldn’t really let you take note of much more than that. You stood up slowly on shaky feet and made your way over to a doorway, finding that a neatly tiled bathroom lay within. It was big, and the shower looked less like the shower that you had in your room and more like something you would expect to find in a spa or a sauna. You looked down at the toilet. “It’s a nice toilet,” you murmur to yourself. Sadie had always told you that you could judge a place by the quality of its toilets.

                Suddenly you drop to your knees and let your eyelids flutter shut as you get sick. You place your forehead against the cool rim of the bowl as your shoulders heave and your body shakes.

 _Well, this is unpleasant_.

                Luckily, you hadn’t eaten much in the past few days, and you choke and cough as dry heaves rack your body. Eventually you get yourself under control as you stand up to look at the sink, but there’s no glass, no cup. You hold your hair back in a makeshift ponytail and stoop down low to drink directly out of the faucet, gulping at the cool water as it runs down your chin.

                Idly, you stumble back into the room, but you don’t sit back down on the bed. Instead, you make your way through the apartment, past a kitchen which seems mostly bare at a cursory glance, as you make your way into a sort of living room area. There are couches and chairs set up, with two empty bookcases lining either side of the wall. On the far side of the room there are black curtains pulled shut across a large window, and you lift up one corner to peek outside. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the blinding white, and you can barely just make out snowy mountain peaks in the distance.

                Well, wherever you were, at least you got a room with a view.

                You make your way over to one of the couches and sit down, sprawling out over it. It’s facing a large metal door, and you assume this must be the way to get out of here, but you don’t try to open it. It’s locked, you know it’s locked, you don’t actually have to get up and inspect it to figure that out. You place the heels of both palms over your temples and rub, trying to rid yourself of your terrible headache. It’s not going to go away easily, and a part of you knows that, but you could always hope.

                You glance around the room, trying to figure out where you are. You don’t actually have to think that hard to figure that out, either. You’re in Kylo Ren’s private quarters. At least, you hope you are. Honestly, though, where else would you be? The Storm Troopers had shown up and said they had come to execute you, and yet you had woken up on a very comfortable bed in a very lavishly designed apartment. It didn’t look like it was used much, nothing was broken or destroyed, and you guessed he didn’t spend a lot of time here. It was probably just for show, but considering he was the most powerful person on board, someone had probably been assigned the task of at least making it look hospitable.

                You lie on the couch for what seems like hours before the door finally slides open and Kylo Ren walks through. Beyond him, you can just make out some sort of small vestibule, further sealing you off from the corridor of the base or whatever lay beyond it. You are lying flat on your stomach, with your arm tucked underneath you, staring out into space. Your eyes don’t focus on him when he enters the room, but you can still see his familiar black armor through your peripheral gaze. He doesn’t say anything as he comes in, and he doesn’t take off his helmet. Instead, he walks over to you and places two gloved fingers on your neck.

 _The bastard was checking your pulse._ Did you really look dead? You snort, a gruff exhale, and he pulls his hand away.

                You still don’t look at him.

                His fingers move up to your temple and you suck in a sharp inhale as you know what’s coming, screwing your eyes shut tight as you brace yourself for the first sharp sting of pain. It’s far worse than you could have imagined. You cry out and try to push him away, but your arms don’t move. You try to kick him, try to roll yourself off the couch, but your legs aren't moving either. Your entire body is frozen. Through closed eyelids, you can see flashes of lights and sounds across your vision, flooding your senses. There was no wall in place now, and he was taking full advantage, tracing every moment that you had spent here in reverse order, back to the beginning. Was he trying to determine your guilt? Your innocence? You whimper and moan beneath him, writhing in pain as he searches through your memories. You try feebly to defend yourself, to reconstruct the wall that Taro had placed there, but there’s no bricks, no stones, no pebbles, no nothing. You can’t build a wall out of thin air and so you simply suffer through it, letting him try to find whatever he’s looking for. It goes on for only a few minutes as he blindly stumbles through your thoughts, but the agony feels as though it stretches on for hours.

                Eventually, he pulls his hand away and you rake in deep gasps of air. Tears sting on your cheeks, but you make no move to wipe them away as he stands over you. He hovers there for a moment before he eventually turns around and leaves the room.  

                You feel completely numb. Was he going to kill you? Were the others already dead? You just don’t know. You want to try to think about it but you can’t. Your brain feels frozen, like it was abandoned overnight on the plains of Hoth before someone decided to stick it back into your skull. You consider just staying right here on this couch and waiting until he comes back, but suddenly you just can’t do that. You can’t sit still and just wait for your execution. They may have let you stay in Kylo Ren’s quarters, which was far better than waiting in a cell, but it was most likely a temporary stay, and you would probably be dead by sunrise, or sundown; whichever was closer. You had been in and out of consciousness so many times these past few days that you weren’t really sure what was what anymore. You had thought time had lost all meaning when B had quarantined you to your room, but this was something else entirely.

                Slowly, you push yourself to your feet and make your way to the shower. If this was Kylo Ren’s room, you had no problem with him coming in to find you naked. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you nude before. Other Storm Troopers were a different story, and so you decide to make it fast. But the water is hot and the shower gets steamy quickly, and although it feels good against your sore and aching muscles, you realize that you’re getting dizzy fast with dehydration, and so you quickly get out of the shower and put your clothes back on, letting your wet hair drip small rivulets down your back. You head into the kitchen and find a glass and down at least three cups of water from the faucet before you feel sick to your stomach. You’re considering lying back down on the bed, but it’s not your bed, and it feels weird to have a bed that big to yourself, so you make your way back to the couch you had laid on before, collapsing on your stomach again.

                And there you wait. And wait. And wait. Were the rest of your friends dead? Was Taro dead? Was B dead? Was C dead? Thinking back on it, he hadn’t woken up the entire time he was in that cell. You could only imagine that he was hit over the head pretty seriously trying to fight back, or maybe even struck in the head by a stray blaster bolt. If that was the case, what if he never woke up? Or what if he had permanent brain damage?

                Not that it mattered, you realized glumly. C had been in on this whole thing from the beginning. Maybe you four could claim innocence, but B and C and the Tortutaru were all very, very guilty. If anyone was going to be executed, it was them. At least if Kylo Ren was looking through your memories, it meant that he wasn’t sure how much of the plan you had been in on. But now he did; now he knew everything you knew. Maybe he had left to collaborate your story with the others, but what good would that do? Even if you all proved you were innocent, would he and Hux really just let you go? And if you were here, where were they being held? Were they still in that cell? You suddenly realize that Kylo Ren might be able to access your thoughts from wherever he is now, and so you decide to keep your thoughts as muted as possible as you stare at the cushion of the couch and wait.

                You drift off to sleep there, and are only awakened by the sound of Kylo Ren coming through the door. You’re not sure if you’re relieved to see him or not, but you watch him silently as he takes off his helmet, and his gloves, and his boots, and his armor. You don’t know if that’s a good sign or not, but considering the only time he had ever taken off his armor around you was when he kissed you, you were hoping that was a good sign. Even still, you couldn’t allow yourself to get too hopeful.

                He sits down on the floor beside you, smoothing your hair back. You stare at him silently, allowing your brain to fully wake up. Kylo Ren was sitting in front of you, helmet off and vulnerable. He didn’t look cocky, or arrogant, but he didn’t look sad either. This was a different expression that you had seen a few times before, but had difficulty placing. Was he pensive? Thoughtful? Perhaps.

                He wasn’t even wearing his helmet and you still couldn’t read him.

                “Are you going to kill me?” you ask quietly. It seems like the best question you can ask right now. The corners of his lips pull into a smirk, and he has the decency to flush at the question.

                “No,” he replies, and his voice is soft. _No._ You let it echo in your head, and for a moment you allow yourself to be calmed by that deep, soothing voice of his. “How are you feeling?”

                “Better than before,” you say as you sit up. You rub your face with both hands as you pull yourself into a seated position, stretching out your legs on the couch. He makes no move to get up from the floor. You blink and look around, as if seeing the apartment for the first time. “So, this is your room?”

                “Yes.” He’s watching you quite intently, and you realize he’s not giving away any more than he has to. You suspect he’s doing this on purpose. He’s not going to tell you what’s happening. You’re going to have to draw it out of him.

                “I didn’t know anything,” you tell him, still rubbing at your head.

                “I know.” _Yup_. He was definitely doing this on purpose.

                You let out a long breath. “B and C and the Tortutaru were all working for the Resistance,” you say. He nods, and you look at him directly. “They used me. To get to you. To distract you.”

                He looks away, and for a moment he looks embarrassed before his eyes narrow in anger. You see one of his hands clench into a fist, and you quickly shut your eyes, waiting for a blow to come, against you, against the couch, against the floor, anything. But after a few moments pass and you don’t hear anything, you open your eyes again. He’s watching you, looking more sullen than before, but at least his fist had relaxed.

                “Yes,” he says finally, but his jaw is clenched.

                “Are they dead?” you ask quietly, your expression impassive. He studies your face, and a small smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth as he senses something in your tone.

                “Some of them.” He seems happy about this, pleased. You search yourself, but you don’t feel anything but that tingling sense of numbness that had taken over since this whole thing started.

                “He was an idiot,” you tell him. He raises an eyebrow and lets you come to terms with your thoughts. “He was supposed to be an interpreter. He was supposed to remain neutral, do the job. Instead he wanted to choose a side and take a stand between right and wrong.” You shake your head. “Like he can tell right from wrong. It’s a war. People die on both sides. He doesn’t know which side is the right side; he’s not omniscient.” Kylo nods his head slowly, as if he likes what he’s hearing. You seemed to be good at that, telling him exactly what he wanted to hear. It was probably the most useful survival tool that you had at your disposal right now.

                “So some of them are dead,” you say quietly, letting that sink in. “Did you kill them yourself?” He just shrugs like it doesn’t matter and doesn’t answer the question. “So is B dead?”

                “Yes.”

                “And C?”

                “Bled out from a head wound.”

                “Figures.” You purse your lips as you feel a dull ache reverberate from deep in your chest, but you try your best to ignore it. You couldn’t let yourself feel anything, not right now. “Anyone else?”

                “One of the Tortutaru, maybe two of them.”

                “Taro?”

                “Not sure.”

                Your brow furrows at this. Hadn’t he been there? Shouldn’t he know? Maybe the Tortutaru had put up more of a fight with the Storm Troopers than you had. “Anyone else?”

                “Your friends are alive,” he says, and you let out a sigh of relief. You picture their faces, Sadie, Ladson, hell, even Shayne. They were all still alive.

                “What’s to be done with them?” you ask quietly, almost afraid to hear the answer.

                “We were able to confirm that the four of you were not directly involved,” he says softly. “Because of that, we see no reason to execute you.” There’s a touch of pride in his voice.

                “I suppose I have you to thank for that?” you ask dryly, and he smiles.

                “Hux would have murdered you all,” he says. He’s grinning, but his voice is still quiet. He’s gloating, but at least he’s not being completely insufferable about your misfortune.

                “So what’s going to happen to them?” you ask quietly.

                “They’re going to be sold into slavery,” he tells you matter-of-factly, and you shut your eyes. “I left that matter to Hux. They’ve probably already been sold off to some Weequays halfway across the galaxy by now.” You take the time to process this information. They were smart, and they knew a lot about other languages, other cultures. If they played their cards right and stuck together, they could probably get back home in one piece.

                “If you didn’t send them off yet, Sadie’s father would pay a lot of money to have them returned safely,” you tell him.

                “I’ll pass that information along,” he says, but he’s still staring at you, waiting for you to ask what he probably deems is the most important question of all.

                “And me?” you ask quietly. “Are you going to sell me off too?” He looks away for a moment as you continue. “Or have I already been bought?”

                “You can think of yourself as my prisoner, if you’d like,” he says, glancing back at you. “Or my guest.”

                “Slave, prisoner, guest,” you murmur, thinking it over. “Those are three very different words, with three very different connotations.”

                “You were the one who let me put this whole thing together,” he says. “You could have made a fool of me, but no. You were the one who pointed me towards that girl, Sadie. You lead me to probe her mind, and she revealed everything to me.” He grins wickedly. “I was able to make a fool of Hux. I can’t tell you what greater joy that gives me, knowing that I was right about the Tortutaru this whole time.”

                You think it over. You weren’t quite sure how Sadie had found out about what was going on, maybe her Tortutaru told her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask Kylo about it. He probably wouldn’t have even told you, anyway. “It was unintentionally done,” you admit.

                “They don’t know that,” he replies simply. “And besides, we may have use for you yet.”

                “We?” you echo. “You mean, the First Order?”

                He nods his head slowly, and you think it over. You had done a terrible job of being neutral as an interpreter, constantly stuck in the middle of things. Would you really be able to do a better job pledging your loyalties to the First Order? “What would they have me do?”

                “That’s for another time,” he says simply. “All you need to know right now is that they know you betrayed your friends and brought this plot to my attention. There is no honor in betrayal, but the First Order does appreciate your contributions to our efforts.”

                “Oh,” is all you can say. “So what does this mean for me?”

                “It means I can keep you,” he says, and his grin looks almost boyish. He reaches up and kisses your forehead. His voice is dripping with possessiveness, and his expression idly reminds you of a child who was just told that he was allowed to keep the puppy that had followed him home. It reminds you of what Sadie said once before, that evil people could still love, but it would be selfish and obsessive. But you can’t dwell on that here, not now, not when he has such easy access to your thoughts.

                “And so I’ll stay here?” you ask. “Here, with you?” His head bobs up and down.

                “I could always find you alternative living arrangements, if you prefer,” he says, but you can sense something in his tone. Alternative living arrangements probably was code for taking you into space and throwing you out of an airlock.

                “No, I want to stay,” you tell him. _Slave, prisoner, guest._ You think it over. Which did Kylo see you as? Which would keep you alive? You remembered how you fed his ego back in your old room, back when you told him that you were merely a pawn at his disposal. It had helped you before, maybe it would again. “After all, I am yours. You do own me.”

                His grin slips into a smirk as he narrows his eyes at you. “If I own you, then submit to me.”

                Submit? You hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out what that means, before you scooch down on the couch, belly up, in what you hope is a vulnerable position. He leans his face over yours as he kisses you, deeply, and you let him explore your mouth with his tongue as he holds your chin in place. You don’t resist, you don’t pull away. Honestly, your feelings for him were sort of skewed as of late, after the dawning realization that you had merely been a toy for him to chase. But you had started to feel something for him before all of that happened, and maybe you would again, given enough time. Given he didn’t start treating you like his property all of a sudden. You had a feeling that he might, now that you had almost just verbally insinuated that you were his plaything, but you hoped things were a little more complicated than that. He had offered for you to be his guest, but you knew as well as he did that labels were hardly going to do you any good right now. You would wait and see how he treated you, and take your cues from there.

                He picks you up suddenly and carries you over to the bed, laying you down gently. At first you think he is going to join you, but instead he turns around and heads into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You hear the sound of the shower and you scooch up into the pillows, curling into a comfortable position. You close your eyes and your eyelids feel heavy again, your brain overloaded by the new information regarding your current circumstances. You realize you’re going to have to guard your thoughts carefully from now on. There’s no wall now, nothing to keep Kylo Ren from reading your mind. Everything you thought had to be carefully processed and filtered.

                He doesn’t take very long, and you’re almost worried about what he’s going to do when he comes out, but he seems to sense your mood and crawls into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you like he used to do. You almost think it’s endearing until he whispers a covetous “Mine” in your ear.

                It should make you feel better, but it doesn’t. You knew he considered his affection for you a weakness. But if he had somehow replaced that sense of affection with a note of possessiveness, as if you were an object for him to wield and control, you would be much more vulnerable to his violent fits of temper. You remember how he had choked you, and yes, he had felt sorry for it afterwards, but he was still an angry person, capable of getting lost in the moment. And now that you couldn’t shield your thoughts around him, you had to be more careful than ever.

                It was almost funny in a sadistic sense. When you had first arrived here, you were in danger without knowing quite what that danger was, but you had declared yourself a neutral entity all the same. You were so eager to jump into the role of an interpreter and completely disregard your own safety in order to fulfill that role. You had thought that being an interpreter would keep you out of conflict, but you were wrong. Now you were in more danger than ever. The First Order had decided to let Kylo keep you because they thought that you would be useful to them. But useful in what sense? What did they want you to do for them? Was Taro still alive? Were your interpreting skills still required? Did this have something to do with the Force? Or something else entirely?

                Kylo is asleep almost immediately as his head hits the pillow, and you regard his sleeping form carefully. He could be sweet and tender, but he could also be vicious and intense. Considering how easy it was for him to read your thoughts, would you even be able to be your real self around him? Or would you constantly feel the need to filter your thoughts, shaping them to match his mood? How long could you keep that up for? Then again, you remembered how he had knocked down the wall in your mind when you had first slept with him. He hadn’t intruded on your thoughts then; maybe he would respect your privacy again now?

                Struck by a sudden thought, you wiggle one arm out of the blanket. If he could read your thoughts so easily, maybe you could read his. You had been able to get a message out to him before, so it wasn’t as if you had never gotten into his head. And he was sleeping, so his defenses were probably non-existent, or at the very least, down. But how would you go about doing it? Slowly, you inch your hand closer and closer to his forehead, but just as your fingertips are about to make contact with his temple, he rolls onto his back, murmuring in his sleep.

                You entire body freezes as you observe him, cautiously, and you slowly lower your arm as you snuggle back into him, resting your head against his shoulder. _No, bad idea._ Kylo’s hand slips back around your waist, holding you close, and for a moment you’re struck by just how _normal_ this seems. The thought was utterly ridiculous, as the whole situation was as far from normal as you could get, but you can’t help but think over what Kylo had told you. He said that he told the First Order that you betrayed your friends for him, and there had been a touch of pride in his voice as he said it. Was that his plan? Did he not want anyone to question your loyalties to the First Order for whatever they had in store for you? Was it a ruse designed to keep you safe?

                And what of your friends? He had been silently gloating when he mentioned how they wouldn’t be executed. They were alive because of him. Granted, they weren’t in the greatest of positions, but he had still done something to help them, hadn’t he? But why would he do it? They were practically strangers to him. Was there a clandestine part of him that cared, or at least knew you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye again if he had killed them? Did he really value your opinion of him?  

                Still, these were all things that Kylo had told you, and you had no way of knowing if they were really true. Was Hux really planning to sell them off into slavery? Was that what the First Order did when they captured, well, you were innocent enough that you couldn’t really be considered a prisoner of war, and yet, wasn’t that exactly what you were? Or had Kylo’s offer of _guest_ meant that he wanted you to stay of your own volition? Could you trust his word? Could you trust him?

                You didn’t have an answer to that, but you tried to take solace in his warm embrace nonetheless as you tried to drift off to sleep. It didn’t come easily, and as you closed your eyes, you tried to focus on the Force inside of you. You still didn’t understand it, but it had apparently been there all along, helping to protect you and keep you safe. You just had to trust in it, and trust yourself that you could get through whatever would happen. You had just managed to create one mental brick by the time you fell asleep.

                One brick was hardly a wall, but it was something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so our reader is back in the unfortunate spot of having a great deal of questions with no answers. One of my professors always encouraged transparency as the most important thing in the interpreting process, but I've tried to apply it to all areas of my life as well. In short, here's where the story is headed: it looks like the nature of the game has changed, but the rules are still the same: our reader is still struggling to figure out what exactly her purpose is on the Starkiller Base, while still trying to figure out where she stands with our enigmatic Kylo Ren. 
> 
> I don't want to spoil anything, but if you're worried that I have suddenly written off almost the entire cast in one chapter, I wouldn't be. There is still much, much fun to be had, although I'm guessing our poor characters probably wouldn't call it fun! I do want to warn you now that the story does get a bit "darker" just in terms of theme; it's not going to get so much physically violent as mental mind games start to come into play: we saw a peek of it this chapter when our reader remembers that he had stopped himself from reading her mind a few chapters ago, but then she considers trying to get into his head when she doesn't think he can block her out. So, we're entering a severely morally grey area, if you will, and moral ambiguity has already been up in the tags, as our reader continues to try to reason out: Was I always this kind of person, or is being on the Starkiller Base making me this way?
> 
> There's a few other messages that I received that I wanted to comment on, but that's all I want to say for now, because I am literally terrible with keeping spoilers to myself. xD 
> 
> BUT I LEAVE YOU WITH A FINAL PRESENT: http://imgur.com/Rc5x2l4  
> One of my friends/editors/doughnut-stealers was bored last night and made a tiny replica of Kylo Ren's apartment. You can see the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, living room, window, vestibule and Kylo's "secret room" in the back that I don't believe I mentioned yet. >.> STILL not going to comment on the furniture, but that's more or less the general layout of the apartment, as our reader may be spending a lot of time there in the near future......
> 
> See, I'm terrible at spoilers. Welp. Until tomorrow!!


	18. Chapter 18

                Kylo Ren wasn’t beside you in bed when you woke up that morning, but you supposed you should be grateful for that. You had no idea if physical distance put a damper on his ability to read your thoughts, but you were going to have to really think through this situation at some point, and it would be better if you focused on those thoughts when he wasn’t here.

                You lie back in bed and try to think about who you were when you had first arrived here. You can picture Sadie in the doorway, smiling at you over a bunch of boxes. _Isn’t this just the best?_ That was what she had asked you then. If you could ask her now, her opinion would probably be quite different. But you couldn’t really think about Sadie right now, either. If Kylo was true to his word and Sadie had been sold off to some far corner of the galaxy, she was going to have to use her own wiles to survive out there, just like you were going to have to do whatever you could to survive in here.

                When you first agreed to take your assignment as an interpreter here, you were seemingly detached from everything that was going on around you. When you had foolishly stepped onto the Starkiller Base, you thought that you weren’t accountable for the consequences of what transpired because you were an interpreter. You thought that you wouldn’t be pulled into the conflict if you closed your eyes and pretended it wasn’t happening. You thought that if you didn’t know what was going on, you wouldn’t have to get involved. But, willingly or not, you had been dragged into it. Your innocence had allowed you to be manipulated and used for someone else’s gain.

                Idly, you wonder how much the Resistance knew. Did B tell them that you were doing this willingly, or did they know you had been used as bait? If they really were such a good for the universe, why would they treat you so expendably?

                You wonder if it would help you to dwell on these sorts of thoughts while Kylo was around. While deriding the Resistance was hardly evidence of your fidelity to the First Order, it couldn’t be taken as the contrary, although you did wonder if Kylo wanted you to swear your loyalties to the First Order or to himself. Now that you had shed your role as an interpreter, you had thought for a brief moment that you were free to express yourself and your opinions, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Kylo Ren could see into your mind now. Your thoughts and considerations would have to be stretched and molded into whatever he wanted to hear.

                Just when you finally decided you could assert your agency, it was taken from you yet again.

                At least you weren’t going to make the same mistakes you had last time. Now you knew the game, and you knew the stakes. Before you were only playing for six months, but now it seemed that you would be here for much, much longer, possibly indefinitely, depending on what role they wanted you to play. That was the mystery of the game, but what about the players in it? What would you do about Kylo Ren? Would it better to be painstakingly obedient or would it be better to challenge him slightly? It would have been so much easier if you could just ask him what he preferred, of course, but he was fickle. He didn’t know himself, and the answer probably would have changed depending on his mood at the time. You could only thank either luck or the Force that you seemed to be adept at reading his behavior and sensing his moods. If you could accurately predict and discern his behavior, it was going to make this a lot easier.

                Suddenly you hear a knock on the door, and you quickly scurry out of bed and into the living room. You were still wearing the pajamas that you wore to bed the night you had taken a blaster to your back: comfortable black pants pulled over your shorts, a tank top, and socks. It hardly would have mattered at any other time, but considering that this was all the clothes that you had right now, it mattered quite a bit.

                “Come in,” you call, brushing your hair out of your face. Kylo Ren wouldn’t have knocked, and so it could only mean you had a visitor. Maybe Sadie? Ladson? Hell, even Shayne. You could only hope that they hadn’t been sold off so quickly and were still on board. It was a bit of a selfish concern, you realized that, but you honestly couldn’t be sure if they were safer on board here or in the hands of the Weequay.

                The door slides open and none other than Captain Phasma walks in, carrying a large crate in her hands. You breathe out a sigh of relief, but it quickly catches in your throat as you look up at her silver helmet. Kylo Ren had indicated last night that the First Order thought that you had sold out your friends and revealed the whole plot to him. While surely you could see why the First Order would be glad that you had brought such treachery to their attention, your mind snagged on the intimation of betrayal. During your interview on one of your very first days here, Kylo Ren had asked you if you were an honorable person, and you had deliberately used your previous profession as a way to skirt the question.

                Honorable people did not sell out their friends. Even if it was unconsciously done, you still couldn’t help but harbor a sense of resentment towards yourself for leading him to Sadie in the first place. Maybe if you knew that she and the others had been sent home safely, you wouldn’t have felt as conflicted.

                You let this myriad of emotions take full control of your features as you gaze up at her, trying not to show weakness, but at the same time, trying to reveal a tender sense of vulnerability. She had been kind to you, and you didn’t want her to think that you were the type to betray that sense of kindness with deceit. “I am glad to see you are doing well,” she says, and you relax immediately.

                “Thank you,” you tell her. “What’s in the box?”

                “Your things,” she says. She places the box down in the space between you and removes the lid. You can tell immediately that it’s not all of your things; it’s mostly clothes and a few books, but you don’t dare ask what happened to the rest of it. You dig through the box, your hands flying across the fabric, searching for one thing in particular.

                “Are you looking for this?” You can hear her good humor through her helmet as she holds out her hand. You look up and a grin spreads across your face as you take the staff from her, hugging it to your chest.

                “Thank you,” you tell her, bouncing on your heels like a little kid who had just found their lost toy. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost this.”

                “I wouldn’t let Ren see you have it,” she says. “But I thought it might help pass the monotony of your days here.”

                You pause, your lips pursing together as you take in what she said. “So am I really a prisoner here then?”

                “They have come to a consensus that you will remain locked in here for the time being until they can further assess your loyalties,” she explains. “Someone will come by twice a day, morning and night, to bring your meals. There is a guard outside the door at all times, should you decide to get curious.” Her helmet bows slightly as she studies you carefully, and you do your best to look as innocent as possible.

                “No worries there,” you tell her. “I’m not going to give your troops any trouble.”

                The helmet lifts up again, as if she’s glad to hear it. She pauses for a moment, as if she’s trying to decide whether or not to say what she’s thinking. “Thank you,” she says at last.

                “Thank-” you repeat blankly. “What for?”

                “It is my firm belief that my soldier’s loyalty should be first and foremost to the First Order,” Captain Phasma explains. “Not to me, nor to any one individual. It couldn’t have been easy to betray your friends, but I recognize and appreciate what you have done for the Order.”

                Your bottom lip puffs out slightly as you consider what she said. “Glad to help,” you say finally. It’s the safest thing you can think of to say in the moment. Apparently Kylo had done a very good job of convincing everyone of your usefulness, although you couldn’t be sure why. Was it because it showed you were under his control? Was it some kind of ruse? Or was it something else entirely? You were honestly getting sick of secret motives and subterfuge, but you supposed that wasn’t going to change any time soon. As long as you were here, and honestly, probably anywhere in the galaxy, people were going to try to use you for their own ulterior motives. It was up to you, and you alone, to protect yourself from it as best you could.

                “A guard will be outside the door at all times,” Captain Phasma repeats. “Please let us know if you require anything. I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”

                “Wait,” you say quickly. “Can I ask, do you know anything about my friends? Are they still here? Or have they been sold off already?”

                She pauses for a moment. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

                _Well, it was worth a shot._

                She turns around to leave, and you let her go without another word. You sit down on the couch behind you, turning your staff over and over in your hands, letting the present reality of your situation sink in. So, you were locked in this apartment and weren’t allowed out. Someone would bring you meals twice a day. In other words, not that much had changed from when B had locked you in your room, and you couldn’t help but laugh aloud at the irony. Different room, slightly different situation, but still the same danger, more or less. At least you had a lot more room to move about here. You had seen a few doors here and there, especially one behind you off to your right that looked like it held something interesting, but you didn’t open it. You wouldn’t open any of them. For all you knew they were simply his closets, or contained secrets that he didn’t want you to see. And if you acted guilty, or any differently in front of him, all it would take was his fingers pressed against your temple, maybe not even that much, to see what you were hiding from him. No, it would probably be in your best interests to know as little as possible.

                The irony of that was not lost on you either.

                Okay, enough thinking. You get up and push the crate into the corner of his room. It’s a big room, and it hardly takes up any space at all. You consider going through your clothes but you don’t feel like it, not right now. Instead, you decide to play with your staff again. You press the button and feel it elongate under your fingertips. You can’t help but smile as you turn it over and over again in your hands. It feels familiar, like hugging an old friend that you thought you were never going to see again. You probably never were going to see any of your old friends again, so you had to take what you could get, even if it was just an inanimate object.

                You do the four point strike slowly, assessing your form, but nothing has changed. You can still do it easily, swiftly, with your eyes closed. Even with the craziness of the past few days, your muscle memory remained intact. Grinning, you spin it around in your hands, faster and faster. There’s actually a lot more space in his bedroom than in your old apartment, and you actually jump off of his bed, bringing down the staff in a deadly overhead strike. You don’t hit the carpeted floor hard though, careful not to hurt the staff, but it’s still fun to pretend that you’re outmaneuvering your unseen assailant. You spin it in slow circles around your sides and then pass it over your head to the other side of your body, constantly trying to keep the staff in motion. You’re quickly getting the hang of it now, and it feels almost weightless in your hands as you spin it in front of you and behind you, doing tricks and pretending to trounce the six imaginary Storm Troopers that were encircling you. If you had your staff in your hands when they had entered your room, and you hadn’t been sleeping, you would have taken them with ease, you were sure of that.

                Suddenly, some small sound reaches your ears, and you realize that it’s the sound of the door opening. _Shit._ You’re suddenly no longer deft and nimble; your hands fumble with the latch as you press the button to shrink the staff back down to its normal size. You have nowhere to hide it. He’s walking towards the doorway now, you can hear him, and so you quickly stuff it into the waistband of your pants, against your lower back, pulling your shirt down over it. You wished you had heard him coming sooner; if you had, you might have been able to bury it under your mass of clothes. Somehow, you doubted he would care enough to rummage through your things.

                But he senses something is wrong immediately. You’re standing in the center of the room, staring at him, sucking deep breaths in and out of your lungs as a bead of sweat drips down from your hairline. He walks towards you slowly, dressed in his full armor, and you breathe out a shaky sigh of relief as he stops in front of you and removes his helmet. “What’s wrong?”

                “Nothing’s wrong,” you say quickly. It’s stupid to lie to him, you know that, but Captain Phasma had literally just told you _today_ not to let him see that you had it, and you didn’t want her to get in any trouble.                

                He takes a step forward and leans his face in to kiss you, his gloved fingers resting against your cheek. You lean forward to kiss him back, making sure to keep your back as straight as possible, trying to keep yourself just out of his reach-

                Too late. Either he predicted what you were about to do, or he was already mucking around in your mind, as he did what you had feared. He took a step forward to deepen the kiss, wrapping one arm around you. His free hand immediately skims over the staff against your back. You murmur a cry of protest against his open mouth as he backs away from you and pulls it out from under your shirt. He turns his back to you as he inspects your hidden treasure.

                “Nooooo-” You sound like a whiny, little kid as you try to grab it from over his shoulder, but he just turns around and holds up one hand, palm facing you, and you’re immediately stopped in place. _Damn_. If you could utilize the Force this well, you had quite a few ideas as to what you would do with it.

                “What’s this?” he asks. He turns it over in his hands until he eventually finds the small, well-concealed latch. He presses the button and you can’t help but whimper as it extends out in front of him. He raises his eyebrows as he spins it around, and you can’t help but notice that he’s wielding it quite naturally, idly spinning it around with just one hand. The way he spun it and moved it from hand to hand would have been quite sexy, but the fact that you couldn’t move prevented those kinds of wayward thoughts from going any further.

                “A weapon?” he asks at length. “Where did you get this?”

                “Nowhere,” you reply. Something skirts across his features and you bite your lip. _You can’t lie to him. Pretending to stall won’t help you. Tell the truth._ “It was a present.”

                “A present?” he asks. “From who?”

                You don’t want to get Captain Phasma in trouble, but at the same time, he was going to extract the information out of you sooner or later. “Captain Phasma. She gave it to me a while ago, after I started taking her self-defense classes. She just gave it back to me again today when she brought my things. She thought it might cheer me up.”

                He stares at you, trying to determine if you’re lying. “You can’t conceal anything from me,” he says at length. You know that. You are painfully aware of that. You are also aware that his voice is dangerously low, and you know what’s coming. “I asked you a question and you refused to give me a straight answer. So now-” He puts his gloved palm against your temple, and you bite your lip to keep from crying out as your shoulders heave. You whimper and let out a slow, strangled breath as pain races across the top of your skull. You shut your eyes and let him take what he wants; let him see what he wants to see. The pain is explosive, like tiny sticks of dynamite blowing up small pieces of your brain, but you don’t fight him. You blink at him, your vision blurry and stained with tears. It looks like he’s still talking, but you’re in so much pain you can’t even hear what he’s saying.

                Finally he pulls his hand away and you exhale a long, shaky sigh of relief. He embraces you in his arms and presses his lips against yours, cradling the back of your head in his hands. “I won’t have to do that if you’re honest with me,” he says quietly. “Do you understand?”

                “Yes,” you say quietly. You look away from him, and you can feel his whole body stiffen as he lets out a long sigh.

                “I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he says, and there’s something in his voice that causes you to hesitantly bring your eyes back up to his face as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear again. It’s a tender gesture, and again you remind yourself that while he’s a volatile, unpredictable person, he still seems to care for you. Did he still consider his affection for you a weakness? Did that depend on if he saw you as a person or a plaything? You can't be sure, but right now he seemed to be treating you as a person, and while you were grateful for that, you realize that you would still have to be careful. You would _always_ have to be careful. “But I can’t protect you if you try to keep things from me.”

                “I’m sorry,” you say softly, but there is a note of firmness in your voice. “I won’t disappoint you again.”

                “Good.” His tone is clipped, and he stands up a little straighter. He presses one more swift kiss against your lips as he hands the staff back to you and picks up his helmet.

                “Does this mean you’re allowing me to keep it?” you ask nervously, turning it over in your hands.

                “It was a gift,” he replies. “I trust her judgement.” He slips the helmet on over his head, and when he speaks again, his voice is full of the low, gravelly distortion that you hate so much. “It appears that you are quite skilled with it. Keep training. I will return tonight.” With that, he turns around and leaves the apartment before you can say anything more.

                You stare after him, mouth slightly agape, but don’t dare to move until you hear the door slide shut behind him. Slowly, you can feel heat creeping into your cheeks as your face splits into a grin. Had he just complimented you? He must have liked whatever he had seen you do in your head. You had felt him shuffling through your memories, but you had let him take what he wanted and tried not to focus on any one thing, instead letting him pick and sort through what he wanted to see for himself. Did he know that you had spent your nights working out? That you had spent your last few days as an interpreter locked in your room, working your body until your muscles were stiff and sore? Was your dedication admirable, or would he have perceived it as a weakness? One thing was for sure, you couldn’t be sure of anything. You could never be sure as to how he would react to any one thing. You had to always be on your guard, always be prepared for the new and unfortunate ways that he was going to surprise you.

                _It appears you are quite skilled with it._ You allow a small bubble of pride to rise up in your chest. That was obviously high praise, coming from him. Maybe if you played your cards right, he would let your training with Phasma continue. You sit down on the edge of his bed and quickly wipe your cheeks dry with the back of your hand. His mental probing had gone on for no more than a minute, if that, and yet it had seemed like so much longer. You understood what he was trying to do, using his mind probe as a deterrent in exchange for your honesty. Well, the lesson had been learned there. Internally, you were kicking yourself for letting it get that far. You knew he was unpredictable, and you could have guessed that lying to him or trying to conceal information would have led to that happening. But it had happened, it was over, it was done, and as long as he stayed true to his word, it would never happen again.

                You decide it would be best if you didn’t dwell on it as you start to sort through your clothes and possessions to try and figure out what you’re left with. There’s more there than it had looked like, and you wonder idly if Captain Phasma had gone through your things or if the task had been delegated to one of her troops. Idly, you wonder what happened to Sadie’s stash of Alderaanian wine. It wasn’t like you really wanted it now, but you wondered if one of the Troopers had turned it in, or decided to keep it for themselves. You could only hope that Ladson had somehow finished it off before they got their hands on it.

                You don’t really know where to put them, so you just fold all of your clothes and throw them back in the crate on top of your books. Physical books were a rarity in the galaxy, seen as inefficient by some, but being at school meant you had access to quite a lot of them. But right now, you weren’t in the mood for a book. Instead, you reach down and pull out your datapad, connecting to the First Order’s network. You had done this when you had first arrived, but the First Order didn’t have any books and B had cautioned you against browsing through their scores and scores of mindless propaganda. You knew it would be best not to have bothered with it when you first arrived, but now you were curious. If you were going to stay with the First Order, you should at least know what their ideologies stood for.

                You read through some of it, but it was all exceedingly dry and puzzling and you didn’t really understand much of it. Even still, you pieced together what you could. Apparently the First Order was headed by Supreme Leader Snoke, whoever that was, and Kylo Ren was basically his right-hand man. You had known he was a powerful, important figure, but this seemed to suggest that he was something else entirely. You read that he was the master of the Knights of Ren, but you had no idea who they were or what they stood for. They didn't seem to be directly related to the First Order, though. Instead, Kylo Ren seemed to exist out of the direct hierarchy of the First Order, working directly under the Supreme Leader himself. You think back to last night when Kylo said that he was pleased he got to make a fool of Hux; were they like two dogs vying for attention, trying to constantly one-up each other and impress Snoke? You weren’t sure.

                But what did the First Order want, exactly? You read something about how Snoke and Kylo Ren were seeking to oversee the colonization of the Unknown Regions, but that made no sense to you. So Snoke wanted to be ruler of that uncharted area? Or did Kylo Ren? Or was Snoke trying to groom Kylo Ren for the role? You couldn’t imagine Kylo being much of a leader; he was far too emotionally malleable for such a position, surely? You shake your head and keep digging, trying to find out more information. Surely there had to be something else. Finally, you find something:

_“It is the task of the First Order to remove the disorder from our own existence, so that civilization may be returned to the stability that promotes progress. A stability that existed under the Empire, was reduced to anarchy by the Rebellion, was inherited in turn by the so-called Republic, and will be restored by us. Future historians will look upon this as the time when a strong hand brought the rule of law back to civilization.”_

                You’re shocked to discover that this was written by none other than Kylo Ren himself. To be fair, you weren’t one for politics or history; it was too complicated and confusing, with all of the different groups and factions, it was hard for your brain to keep track of them all. So Kylo Ren wanted to work with the First Order to…promote stability? Bring the “rule of law back?” What did that even mean? You had no idea, but it looked like the mark of a man who had great ambition. Did Kylo Ren really want to _rule the entire galaxy_? The man had run away while he was finger fucking you, but somehow he alone was going to bring order and stability to the entire galaxy?

                You didn’t like it, not one bit. It wasn’t that it frightened you, political ideologies always used bold language which tended to be intimidating in itself, but it was the fact that you couldn’t see the Kylo Ren that you had just read about as the one who you had slept with last night. It was like they were two completely separate entities.

                Either way, you had to stop thinking about it. You would not be in a favorable position if he happened to look through your thoughts and found out that you deemed him too “weak” to reach his lofty goals.

                You put the datapad away and pull out one of Sadie’s old fictional books. It was probably going to be a sappy love story, Sadie loved that kind of drivel, but to be fair, it would probably distract you from having unnecessary thoughts. You had no idea what Kylo Ren would make of you reading through First Order literature while he was away. There was the possibility that he would have been pleased that you were interested in the First Order itself, but there was also the possibility that he would be upset with what you had read about him. You yourself weren’t upset, just really, _really_ confused, but it wasn't wise to dwell on thoughts to which you would never receive any answers. So instead, you curl up with Sadie’s book, open to the first page, and pretend you’re someone else, some young ingénue, in a galaxy far, far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES: The italicized passage above is directly from the novelization by Alan Dean Foster, when Kylo Ren is talking to Lieutenant Mitaka (he's in the movie, just not identified by name, he's the one who tells Ren that the droid got away with Finn and Rey on Jakku before Ren turns around and goes to town on the console. xD) 
> 
> Also, the struggle for her agency (now that she had shed the interpreter role and was free to make her own decisions about things, ironically she wouldn't be able to because she would constantly have to be aware of her thoughts and suppress them around Kylo Ren) was supposed to be the focus of the story, but now that our character has become kind of a badass, it didn't seem authentic to have her suddenly become submissive, so the story is not going to go in that direction, especially considering the reader is already used to acting natural around him when she had the wall in her head to protect her. (And I couldn't see Kylo appreciating her just rolling over and feeding his ego all the time, just sayin'; they're both mentally headstrong people and they expect that out of each other.) But I felt like I still had to address it in some way before the story could move forward, and so this chapter is an homage to that, in a sense.
> 
> Along those lines, I do want to warn you that next chapter gets intense. It starts out at a very rapid pace at 120 mph and then winds down drastically, and then picks up a little speed at the end. Basically, tomorrow is going to be a rollercoaster and I am giving you fair warning to prepare yourselves now: It does get a little scary, and I'll be messing with your emotions quite a bit...
> 
> Until tomorrow. ;)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Scary situation threatening canon-typical violence; aka the author takes an innuendo way too far

                When you open your eyes, you realize that you had fallen asleep for a few hours. Groggily, you pull yourself to your feet and pick up Sadie’s book, tossing it in the crate across the room as you stretch your neck to one side and wander restlessly into the kitchen. There was a plate of food on the counter, and you vaguely recalled that Captain Phasma had promised that someone would be by to bring you meals twice a day. It looked like it was just something from the cafeteria, but you couldn’t really be bothered to care. Food was food; you had never been picky about it, although that was probably because you still remembered how your father used to trade in spare parts for daily portions of bread when you were younger. But food had been in abundance at your academia, and it was plentiful here too, so you had at least allowed yourself to expect a variety of flavors and textures in your daily meals.

                At least the plate was still warm as you stuffed yourself with food, chewing lazily with your mouth open, enjoying the quiet. Kylo Ren was going to be gone for long stretches at a time, you could see that now, and so you were going to have to put up with your own company for a while. Not that you minded. Again, you were reminded that B had planned to keep you locked in your room for weeks until you got back to your academia. You had thought that was cruel punishment then, but looking back on it now, it seemed crueler that he claimed to do it for your own protection. Yes, Kylo Ren probably would have been suspicious if they had resurrected the wall in your mind instantly, but maybe if they had –

                No. You finish off the last bit of your food and lift the plate to your lips, licking it clean, before you slam it down on the counter. No, you refused to think about this anymore. B was dead. Taro was maybe dead, and the rest of your friends were probably off this base already, either being sent home or being sold into slavery. It wouldn’t do you well to hold a grudge. What had been done was done. If you remained angry about it, then you would eventually take out your rage on the only person you actually saw: Kylo Ren. And you refused to do that. He may have had his own selfish reasons for keeping you here, but at least he was keeping you safe, and lashing out at him would only result in extremely negative consequences for you.

                Instead, you decide to channel your frustration in the healthiest way you can, heading back into your room and picking up your staff. It was hardly the same without Ladson here to spar with, but at least you could still keep up your skills sharp and pretend. If you stayed on Kylo’s good side and remained on your best behavior, there was at least a chance he would let you go to self-defense classes again. At least that would give you a change of scenery, and it wasn’t as if you had actually learned anything of serious consequence. It didn’t matter how much you could defend yourself: you were only one person. Kylo had the Force, and Storm Troopers had blasters. You could try to kick them, and they could blow a hole right through your foot. It was a distraction, that’s all it really was, but a nice distraction that made you feel a bit better about yourself nonetheless.

                You were still spinning your staff around and around in your hands when Kylo Ren came back about an hour later. You called out a small noise of greeting as the door opened, but you stayed in the room, turning the staff hand over hand. You had spun it over two hundred times without dropping it, and you were going for a thousand. Your wrists were starting to ache, but it wasn’t as if you had anything better to do, and the constant counting at least kept your mind occupied.

                Kylo appears in the door without his usual armor. He seems to wait for you to notice him, and so you reluctantly bring your staff by your side as you focus on him. He’s holding something long and wooden in his hands, and that’s when you realize that he’s holding a true bo staff. You bite your bottom lip and can’t suppress a smile, thinking at first that it’s a gift for you. “What are you doing with that?”

                “When I was in your mind earlier, I saw all sorts of things,” he says, looking quite pleased with himself. “I saw how you spent your days, and I saw how you spent most of your nights.” You feel heat rising to your cheeks, and for a moment you’re worried that he’s jealous of Ladson. This seems to be the case, as he puts one foot out in front of him in a lunge, holding the staff across his body.

                “No.” You shake your head back and forth quickly. “Oh no.”

                “No?” he asks, a small smile playing on his lips. “Why not?”

                You stare at him, not knowing quite where to begin. For one, he’s much bigger than you were. He was taller than you were, he was stronger than you were, and he was probably better trained than you were. You didn’t know how much training he had with a staff, specifically, but he probably had all sorts of weapons training. Even on his worst day, he was probably better than you on your best day. Plus, there was also that pesky little matter of his temper. What if you beat him and he felt emasculated and decided to take out his frustration on you? What if he lost control and-?

                “Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?” he asks, tilting his head to one side and you hesitate before nodding your head slowly, remembering to be honest with him. He leans his staff against one wall before disappearing into the living room and you stand there, not sure if you should follow him, before he returns with something else in his hand. It’s a small black metal staff, shorter than yours when it’s contracted, with two small ends sticking up and out of the side to make the ends of a ‘T.’ “Do you know what this is?”

                You shake your head, and he gestures for you to come closer. He holds it out in front of him, holding the staff parallel to his body as he brings around in front of him. Suddenly you see a flash of red and your feet stop moving. It’s his lightsaber, the one C had described. It looks mean; you don’t have another word to describe it. It’s emitting some sort of low hum, but in addition to that, it’s crackling and hissing and spitting like it has a temper of its own. In addition to the central blade, there are also two small cross guards that jut out on each side that makes it look like a giant, glowing red sword.

                “Do you like it?” he asks, and you nod your head nervously. You weren’t sure if you liked it so much as you were afraid of it. It looked powerful, and scary, and dangerous. He’s telling you about how he made it himself, out of a single cracked Kyber crystal, and you can’t help but notice how proud he sounds, like a little kid showing off something he made all by himself. You had no idea how much work went into making a lightsaber, but you could tell from his tone that it was probably a lot. You could also tell that this was his main weapon. He probably never let it leave his sight, which meant that if you disobeyed him, he could run you through with it at any time. What if you did something, one little thing to make him angry, and he-

                You look up at him and realize that he’s stopped talking. He looks displeased, although you can’t tell if it’s because he thinks you weren’t paying attention to him, or if it was because he was following your thoughts. Whether it was because he was in your head or because he could read the look on your face, it didn’t matter. How he knew would not protect you from his next two words. “Touch it.”

                “Touch it?” you repeat. You may not have been paying that close attention to what he had been saying, but C had told you about how he was able to wreck consoles with it, and if it could melt metal, your hand would be gone in seconds.

                “Touch it,” he repeats. You stare into his dark eyes but can only see the red glow of the blade reflected in them. The look on his face is cold. He’s serious. _But he can’t be serious_ , you want to argue with yourself. He can’t be serious. He can’t expect me to-

                Suddenly he holds out his other hand, palm up, and you watch as your hand rises up in front of you. “No, Kylo-” You pull in a deep, shuddering breath and you can feel tears prick in your eyes as he pulls your hand closer to the blade. You grab at your wrist with your other hand, trying to pull it away, but it keeps moving, your fingers getting closer-

                Your heart is thumping in your chest and you screw your eyes shut, turning your face away, getting ready to experience the most intense pain of your life. “Look.” His voice is dark, commanding, and suddenly you feel your eyes open as your head snaps around to look. He’s doing this, you realize, he wants to force you to watch your own skin melt. Tears are flowing freely from your eyes now and you hate him so much, you hate him more than you hated B. They were right, he was a monster. He didn’t care about you; how could you be stupid enough to think that he cared about _anyone?_ You had insulted his ego and because of that he was going to make you burn off your own hand. You want to beg him, beseech him not to do it, but if he’s in your head then he already knows what you want to say. You bring your eyes back to his face again, which is as hardened and as focused as ever.

_He doesn’t care._

                Just as your fingertips are about to touch the blade, it disappears. The red light is gone, both from the blade and from his eyes, and his hold on you drops. You clutch your hand back to your chest and hold it out in front of you, letting tears stream down your face. You whimper quietly, trying to hold back your tears, afraid that an outburst might only incite him further. He puts down the lightsaber, but you still don’t feel relieved as he walks towards you, putting his large hands on either side of your head as he forces you to look at him.

                He looks serious, but there was at least a small hint of apology in his eyes. “How else can I make you understand?” he asks firmly. “I’m not going to hurt you. I know at times I can be reckless, but I am _in control_. I’m not going to hurt you again.” You blink up at him, trying to understand. Was that what he was trying to do? Show you that he could control himself _not_ to hurt you? It made an impression, you had to give him that, but you weren’t quite sure it was the one he had intended.

                Your head bobs up and down in acceptance and he lowers his head to try to kiss you. You let him, puckering your lips just enough to barely kiss him back. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face as he studies your expression, and you do your best to look as unafraid as possible. “Pick up your staff.”

                You nod your head curtly as you pick up your staff from where you had dropped it. It’s already extended to its full length and you hold it across your body. “I’ve never had any sort of formal training,” you tell him nervously, not quite sure if he knows this already.

                “Then allow me,” he says simply. He takes two quick strides towards you, raising the staff, and you literally just shut your eyes and cower there, holding your arm in front of your face at an angle to protect yourself. When the force of impact doesn’t come, you lower it slowly, cautiously.

                “Sorry,” you say softly, averting his eyes. When you finally do look at him, his expression is bemused, waiting for your explanation. “It’s just that, when I was sparring with Ladson, he was kind of weak. I knew he couldn’t really hurt me.”

                He bends down and puts his staff on the floor, holding his palms out in front of him. “Hit me.” You stare at him, eyes wide. It reminded you of when Captain Phasma had told you to hit her back in the gym during your first self-defense class. What was it with the First Order? Why did they want everyone to go around hitting them to prove their strength?

                “I can’t hit you,” you say softly.

                “Because you’re afraid of me?” he asks, and you consider this for a moment.

                “No.” You shake your head as you look up at him. “I know I’m not going to hurt you, I _can’t_ hurt you, but I just, I don’t know, I have no reason to hit you.”  

                He stares at you for a moment, but there’s something different in his eyes. It looks like he’s just taken on a challenge, a puzzle, and he’s trying to figure out how to solve it. “Tell me about B.”

                “About B?” you ask. You had momentarily forgotten that all of your thoughts were at his beck and call. “What about him?”

                “He betrayed you,” Kylo says, circling you as he speaks. “He put you up like a lamb for the slaughter. He used you as bait. What if I had choked you to death? Do you think he would have cared? Or would he just have seen you as another casualty of his mission?”

                Something stirs in your chest. You don’t like it. For a moment, you would do anything to get him to stop talking about this. Was that his plan? To make you angry? You had just decided during dinner that you weren’t going to let yourself feel angry. You weren’t going to let it take over you.

                “What about Sadie?” he asks. “That was your friend’s name, right? Sadie? Wasn’t she like a sister to you? And now I wonder where she is. Halfway across the galaxy, sold into a life of slavery for all I know. And all because you told me her name. She betrayed you, and then you betrayed her, and-”

                “Stop talking.” The muscle in your arm spasms involuntarily, but he continues to circle you like a vicious animal, waiting to go in for the kill.

                “It doesn’t make you angry?” he asks. “To know the entire reason you were sent here was to be used as bait? What does that say about you?” His voice gets lower. “B told you himself, didn’t he? The only reason you were brought here was as a distraction for me. He knew that I choked you. He watched how you covered up the bruises I left you. He knew I could return at any time and kill you in your sleep, and he didn’t lift a finger to try to protect you. You were expendable to him.” His voice drops even lower, although you don’t know how that’s even possible. “You weren’t brought here to be an interpreter. You were brought here so that I could fuck you and use you in whatever way I wanted. That’s the only thing he thought you were good for. Doesn’t that bother you?”

                You want to hate him but you can’t, because he’s right. B knew about the bruises and he did nothing to protect you. And he had said as much himself, leaning over C’s bleeding body. He had told you that you were just a distraction for Kylo Ren. He knew you would play hard to get, and he knew – ugh, the whole thing made you sick to your stomach and you just, you just –

                You give in to your anger. You pull your fist back and punch him as hard as you can in his shoulder, and you’re almost surprised to see him stumble back a little bit, like he’s not expecting it. You hesitate for a moment, watching him, but his lip pulls into a triumphant sneer and suddenly you hate him more than ever. You step forward to punch him again, quickly, but he blocks you with one arm. Still, it doesn’t look completely effortless and you move in closer, sending the punch towards his face. He grabs your wrist. _Other fist?_ He grabs that one in midair too, and as he holds your wrists in front of you, his long fingers squeezing into you almost painfully, it reminds you of the first time you had sparred with Ladson.

                You throw your body down towards the floor and he releases you as you throw out a kick to your side, planting it squarely in his abdomen as you use your hands to balance. He’s not as tough without his armor on, and he stumbles backwards a little bit, his eyebrow cocked in confusion. He hadn’t been expecting that. You get back on your feet, arms out in front of you, blocking your torso. You remember what Captain Phasma had said. This was self-defense. You had the upper hand if you were in a defensive position, not offensive.

                He stands up straight and walks closer to you now, watching you with interest. He opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head. “Don’t talk. You wanted me to get angry, well, I’m angry. You want to fight me, then go ahead. Let’s fight.” He narrows his eyes at you and throws out a punch, but the motion is far too slow and you can tell by the way he barely extended his arm that he’s holding back. Even still, you don’t let him hit you. You push his arm out with your forearm and, holding it with one hand, take the chance to reach in and punch his chest quickly before you pull away.

                “It’s only going to piss me off more if you don’t even try,” you snap. He goes to hit you with elbow and you let him, making no move to block it. It hurts like hell, but you just close your eyes and shake your head, as if it doesn’t make a difference to you. “Seriously, if you’re not even going to try, I’m not going to even block it.”

                He studies you for a moment, and he makes a move to punch you before he drops down to the floor and uses his hands to support himself as he kicks you, hard. The action has you completed blindsided and you let yourself fall backward onto your butt. He holds his hand out to help you up and you take advantage of it, pulling him down to the floor with you as you roll out of his way. You quickly get onto your knees and straddle him, putting both hands flat on his chest. “Impressive kick, but I think I win.”

                “Really?” You don’t know how he does it, but your vision goes black for a minute as you wind up on your back with him on top of you, your hands pinned to either side of your head.

                “I got this,” you huff stupidly. He bends down to kiss you but you pretend to be annoyed, trying to suppress your giggles as you shake your head from side to side so that he can’t even get close. Instead, you try to free yourself, pushing your hips up. That has the opposite effect, as you accidentally feel his length through the thin barrier of clothes between you. You rake in a deep breath and let him capture your lips between his own this time, although the heels of your feet still pound against his back.  

                He plants a trail of kisses along your neck, holding your arms down by your head while you struggle and buck, trying to shake him off. He nips playfully at your earlobe, and you can feel his breath, hot against your ear. “Roll your hips.”

                What? No if you do that it’ll feel _good_ and… wait. You get it.

                You roll your hips out to the _side_ , scrunching up your body as you go, and you manage to pull one leg out, using it as leverage to get to your knees. He’s still holding your hands out by your sides, but you throw your weight at him, leading with your shoulder, and he reluctantly lets one of your wrists go as you climb to your feet. From there, it’s an easy twist to pull your other wrist out of his grasp.

                You’re standing a good few feet away from him now, and you watch him with a smirk playing on your lips as he gets back on his feet. “If you want me, you’re going to have to do better than that.”

                “I was hoping you’d say that,” he says as he comes towards you, and suddenly your thoughts dissolve into movements and counter-movements, strikes and blocks and yes, occasional bursts of pain that you would never admit to, but the worst part was that you _liked_ it. Before, when it was just fooling around with Ladson, it had just been sort of fun play fighting, but this was different. It _hurt_ when he hit you, and it felt like you actually had a stake in this, like you actually had a stake in your own well-being. It was like before you were just a child playing pretend, and this was the real thing.

                Even though you understood that Kylo had just brought up B and Sadie in order to goad you into anger to fight him, it had also made you realize something else. Kylo was preparing you, slowly, in his own way, to not let yourself be taken advantage of again. It’s why he held out his lightsaber and almost made you touch it; he wanted to be clear: he _could_ hurt you, easily, but he wasn’t going to. Sure, it was harsh and cruel, but it was also honest in a way that you could now appreciate. B had always acted like he would protect you if it came down to it, but in the end, his words meant nothing. At least Kylo was clear: he wasn’t going to protect you unless you really needed him to. Instead, he was going to force you to protect yourself…

                …because he knew you could. You throw yourself at him, knocking him onto his back, and your mouth covers his with greedy, sloppy kisses. Your sides ache and sweat is dripping off of your forehead, but you don’t care. You need him, you need to feel him. He sits up suddenly as if to flip you over, and you wrap your arms around his neck as you kiss him. He grabs your arms roughly and forces them to your sides as he grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. Sweat is dripping down his chest, and you run your hands over his muscles, greedily drinking him in as you breathe your words out in a breathless whisper. _“Aw, fuck.”_

                Your eyes meet his again, just for a second, and you can see the spark in his eyes. He likes this as much as you do. He likes that you can take a hit, likes that he can be rough with you. You can’t deny the rush of exhilaration that goes through you as you think of all the things that he could do to you; that you could do to him. He smirks wickedly at you, and your stomach suddenly lurches. “Are you in my head right now?”

                “I don’t need to be.” Suddenly there is a frantic scrambling of limbs as clothes get pulled off and deposited in every direction. You climb into his lap and push yourself down over him without warning, without preamble, biting into his shoulder as hard as you can. You can hear him grunt in your ear through clenched teeth as he brushes your sweaty hair out of your face, giving him access to your neck.

                “No, you don’t.” Your left hand comes around to his shoulder and pushes him back, pushing him down onto the floor. You hold his shoulders steady with both hands as you move up and down on top of him, moving agonizingly slowly. You raise your hips and tease him, hovering for a moment, before crashing back down on top of him. He lets you do it twice before he sits up again, trying to knock you onto your back, but you won’t allow it. Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck and force yourself to sit upright, wrapping your legs around his waist.

                You kiss him fervently and run your hands through his hair, which is damp and tangled with sweat. Somehow it makes him even hotter as you push yourself against him, thrusting your hips against his in short, desperate bursts.

                You pull away from him and lean back slightly, allowing him to move deeper inside of you as you put your arms on the floor on either side of you for support. “Fuck, yes, Kylo, fuck.” You throw back your head and groan as he pumps into you, filling you, and as you reach your orgasm you let him sweep you backwards until he’s on top of you as he finds his own release, his long fingers digging into your upper arms as he comes. You let him cover his mouth with yours as you drink in his hot, desperate gasps for air.

                Eventually he collapses beside you, and you playfully push his chest off of you. He’s too hot, too sweaty, and too heavy, but he keeps his arms around you as you breathe out. “We missed the bed,” you say teasingly to break the silence. He just grunts in acknowledgement, and you immediately regret saying anything. “But this is good; this is fine though.”

                He grunts as he gets to his feet and bends down to pick you up. He literally tosses you onto the bed before he throws himself down beside you. You can’t help but giggle, but stop as he seals your mouth with his, silencing you with soft, gentle kisses. You breathe out a loud exhale, still delirious and light-headed, but happy. “We should do that more often.”

                He grunts. “Which part?”

                “Both,” you say teasingly. “Although you didn’t need to say all that stuff to get me to hit you.”

                “I know,” he says quietly, and a crease forms between his brow as he frowns. You twist over and look at him in confusion. “When I came in, I could _feel_ your anger.”

                “But it wasn’t at you,” you say quietly. He shakes his head like it doesn’t matter.

                “You’re going to be alone here for most of the day,” he says in that same low voice. “You need to know why you’re angry so you know how to release it.”

                You consider what he’s saying, but it sounds too rational and level-headed to be coming from him. “Don’t project,” you say teasingly. “You’re just as mad about what they did as I am. They used you too.”

                He growls as he rolls over onto you, planting a kiss to your neck. “And I am controlling my anger,” he says through gritted teeth.

                “Yeah?” you ask. “How many consoles have you destroyed lately?”

                “Today?” he asks. “Four.” You pause, not sure if he’s teasing you or not. It’s hard to tell with him, but at least if he was telling the truth, it meant that he was taking his anger out on machinery and not on you.  

                “So I’m going to be alone here for a while?” you ask. “How long is a while? You can’t just keep me locked in here forever, just spending my days waiting for you to come back.”

                “It’s not up to me,” he says smoothly, although there’s an edge to his voice.  

                “I’ll make you a deal,” you say, propping yourself onto your arms to get a better look at him. “I’ll talk to you about what makes me angry if you talk about what makes you angry.”

                “No,” he says flatly.

                “No?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “So you prefer for us to vent by hitting each other?”

                “Sparring,” he corrects you.

                “So we’re supposed to just spar and fuck every night?” you ask. He seems to consider this. “I mean, yes, I’m sure you have to put up with idiots all day, but you can at least _talk_ to people out there. I don’t have anyone to talk to here. It wouldn’t so bad if you just let me out for a little bit every day-”

                “No,” he says firmly, and your shoulders drop. “Not yet, at any rate. Be patient.”

                “Be patient?” you muse. You don’t want to be patient. “I’m tired of people using me without people telling me what they’re using me for.”

                “Everyone’s going to use you if you have something they want,” he says as he closes his eyes.

                “Not you,” you remind him.

                “You think I’m not using you?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

                “You care about me,” you say playfully, but suddenly you’re not so sure. You avoid his eyes and roll the other way, facing the wall. You can hear him sigh from behind you as he says your name, but you just shake your head. “No, it’s fine. I remember what you said. You don’t even like me.”

                He hesitates. “I saved your life.”

                “And I’m so grateful,” you murmur. “Now instead of being shipped across the galaxy with my friends, I get to be stuck in your room all day, waiting for you to come back so you can hit me and fuck me.” You hear his breath catch in his throat. “You’re right, spar and fuck, you’re right, my mistake.”

                “You’d rather be halfway across the galaxy than be here with me?” he asks quietly, and there’s something in his tone. Great, now _you’ve_ offended _him._

                You roll back over on your side to face him. “That’s not fair,” you mutter. “You know you can read my mind to see how I feel.”

                “Just because I can doesn’t mean I will,” he retorts.       

                “But you still have that option,” you counter. “I don’t know how you feel. For all I know, you just want to fight me and fuck me.”

                He glares at you and you glare right back. “You want to know how I feel?” he demands.

                “Yes,” you say firmly, your voice full of conviction.

                “I like you,” he says as fast as possible, getting his words out in a rush.

                “I like you too,” you spit back.

                “I care about your safety,” he snaps.

                “And I care about yours.”

                You glare at each other for a minute longer before he grabs you, pulling your lips to his. You wrap your arms around his neck, running your hands through his hair as he runs his hands along your back. You kiss him with such intensity that you are completely out of breath by the time he pulls away.

                “Okay, sparring and fucking, I can live with that,” you murmur.

                And you do. For the next few days, you spar until you’re both dripping with sweat, and then you fuck. Sometimes it’s in the living room, sometimes it’s in the kitchen, sometimes it’s in the bedroom. Once it was in the bathroom, in the shower, but it was slippery and neither of you were really eager to try that one again.

                It was strange. At first you had thought that you wanted to talk to him about what had happened, but when you were both lying together in bed at night, you couldn’t think of one thing you wanted to say to him. You had both been used by B, and now he was dead. Sure, it bothered you every now and again, but you released your anger by sparring with Kylo until you were physically too exhausted to be angry. You weren’t sure if it was the healthiest approach, but it was at least a good way to kill time until you figured out what exactly you were doing here. What did they want you for, anyway? Kylo either didn’t know or wouldn’t say, but once he had told you that he was at least “working on it.” You had no idea what that meant, but you trusted him. And it wasn’t just because he told you he liked you, or because he cared about your safety; you had guessed that much already.

                In fact, you weren’t sure why you suddenly trusted Kylo. He had saved your life, you could believe that much, and if he was sincere when he told you that he liked you, then that gave him additional motive and explained why he saved the lives of your friends. He had told the First Order that you had spoiled their plot in order to protect you, and he was sparring with you now, honing your skills, still trying to help you protect yourself and vent your anger. The only problem was that you couldn’t understand why he was doing it. Sure, he cared about you, and he liked you, but it seemed almost too selfless to be an authentic gesture of affection coming from him. Was Sadie right about you? Were you so determined to think of him as an evil person that you refused to at least consider that he was capable of doing good deeds, especially when it came to you?

                Either way, you didn’t have to think on it much more as the door opened up one morning. You had been lying on the bed, naked, when you heard the door open without a knock. The Storm Troopers, you had come to learn, knocked three times before they entered Kylo Ren’s apartment to give you time to prepare yourself in case you were indecent. But if there was no knock, then it could only be Kylo. Who else would it be?

                “Back so soon?” you call teasingly. There’s no answer, and so you quickly kick the sheets away from you as you smirk and head into the living room, still undressed. “I swear, if you think I’m ready to go again after last night then-” But your voice immediately cuts off as you stare at the person standing in your living room. “General Hux.”

                The corner of his mouth pulls up into a sneer. “Put some clothes on,” he tells you. “Your presence has been requested.”      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by:  
> "You should totally make a part where Kylo asks her to touch his lightsaber, huh, huh you should do it, ;), write a part where he asks her to touch his lightsaber, come onnn you know you want to write a part where he asks her to touch his - KRASAVA WHAT THE FUCK?!"  
> "IT'S STAR WARS. LOSING A HAND IS BASICALLY THE DEFINITION OF CANON-TYPICAL VIOLENCE."  
> Hey, you wanted her to touch it! What did you think would happen? ;)  
> But come on, guys, I'm not THAT evil....no one's going to lose a hand.....maybe..... >.>
> 
> That aside, do we have any Buffy the Vampire Slayer fans in here? Remember how Faith says that slaying gets her "hungry and horny?" The same can be said for sparring, mostly because you let all your thoughts and everything else slip away and focus solely on the other person. It probably has something to do with the aggression and release of testosterone, but hey, I don't question it. 
> 
> That said, self-defense is always important, and so here's a video I found that shows some good ways to get out if someone has you in a ground pin: https://youtu.be/9ANbQ5Dpgw8 Granted, if you're just sparring and play fighting with someone, you don't actually want to hurt them in the groin, (and they shouldn't be holding you down that hard anyway), but if you're in a real life situation and you're being attacked, then please do whatever you feel you must in order to protect yourself. But if you're just fooling around with your partner and they're on top, I always try to get my legs out so that I can flip them around and end up on my knees. Then again, it all depends on the size of both people involved and how you're positioned.....but yeah! I always encouraging playing around, but make sure to stay safe!! 
> 
> Until tomorrow, cheers!!


	20. Chapter 20

                You are dressed in two seconds flat, sliding on a simple black shirt over plain slacks that balloon out at your waist slightly. You don’t have time to look in a mirror, but you’ve lost weight since you’ve been here. There’s no doubt about that; your clothes just don’t fit you as well as they should. In fact, they look one size too big, like you were simply borrowing someone else’s clothes for a special assignment. It only served to further remind you that you were not an interpreter anymore, and a part of you doubted that you ever would be again. Even if you did manage to find your way back to your old academia, there would be no way that you could ever interpret simple trade negotiations after all you had been through. It seemed too mundane, too tedious and dull, after all that you had experienced here.

                Nevertheless, you do your best to look as professional as possible as you march down the corridor beside General Hux, with two Storm Troopers bringing up the rear. You couldn’t believe he would just barge into Kylo’s room unannounced, which of course was code for you still couldn't believe that you had just walked into the living room and allowed him to see you naked without checking to see who it was.

                “So are you enjoying your time here?” Hux asks pleasantly as you walk. “Enjoying your accommodations?”

                “They’re adequate,” you reply simply.

                 “Adequate,” he muses, as if this is somehow funny. “And how is Ren treating you?”

                “I’m a prisoner here,” you respond curtly. “He’s keeping me in my place.”           

                The corner of Hux’s mouth perks up, and his voice drops just a bit. “I bet he is.”

                You know you should just let that go, but you can’t help yourself. “What was that, General?” you ask lightly.

                “Nothing,” Hux replies, casually mimicking your tone. “Ren always did have terrible taste.”

                You let a breath in and out through your nose as you purse your lips shut, unsure of which implication you should be more offended by. You could see why Kylo didn’t like him, but you do your best to wipe the look of indignation off your face as you try to appear unfazed. “And how can I be of assistance today, General?”  

                “I believe today only your linguistic skills are required,” he says matter-of-factly. It takes you a moment to figure out what other skills he’s referencing, and your face falls as you process this new insinuation. Your disdain for Hux was starting to border on abhorrence. If Kylo had to put up with him every minute of every damn day, you could see why he had to smash in consoles on an almost daily basis just to stay sane.

                “So one of the Tortutaru are alive?” you ask cautiously, trying not to let any emotion slip into your voice.

                “Two of them,” he replies simply. “So far they’ve all but resisted Ren’s mental efforts for more information. He insisted that you would be useless, but I would like to see for myself.” You mentally brace yourself. Kylo had said you were useless? Or was he just trying to keep you out of it? _Yes, that was it_ , you decided. He was trying to keep you out of Hux’s way, trying to keep you safe.

                “I, of course, will do whatever I can to help the First Order,” you say as levelly as possible.

                “Good,” Hux says curtly as he leads you into a large room. There’s nothing in this room except for two Storm Troopers, who immediately snap to attention as soon as General Hux walks in. There’s a large glass window along one wall, and you can see Taro through it, sitting with his hands chained together at his wrists. His head is bowed and his eyes are shut. It’s all you can do not to run in the room and attempt to pull the cuffs off him with your bare hands.

                You turn to Hux to see him studying your reaction carefully and quickly make an effort to compose yourself. “So what do you want with him?”

                “Are you sure you can help us?” Hux asks. “You look-” He pauses, trying to settle on the right word. “-concerned.”

                “He betrayed both my confidence and my safety,” you tell him. “I have no feelings for him whatsoever. I have since pledged my loyalties to Kylo Ren and to the First Order, and I will do whatever it takes to prove that.”

                “After you,” he says, and you follow him into the room. There’s already a chair set up for you, a small, metal chair that doesn’t swivel, but creaks when you sit down in it, as though it won’t support your narrow frame. Taro looks up as you sit down, his face conveying a mixture of emotions, none of which is surprise.

                General Hux opens his mouth to speak. “Tell him-”

                “Release his restraints,” you command. A Storm Trooper that is standing just inside the door hesitates as you turn to him. “I can't interpret what he says if he can’t use his hands. Release his restraints.”

                Hux glares at you, but gestures for the Storm Trooper to go ahead.

                “Tell him that you’re our prisoner,” he says.

                You look at Taro and pick up your hands. _He wants me to tell you that I’m his prisoner._ You pluck your thumb under your chin, though, negating at least the last part of that sentence.

                Taro lets out a long breath and seems to collect himself. It looks like it’s hard for him to move his hands, and you wonder how long he’s been chained up like that. He rubs at one wrist in particular, and you can see tender, purple marks cut into his dark green flesh. “What’s that mean?” Hux demands. “What’s he saying?”

                “He’s rubbing his wrist,” you snap at him. You turn to Taro and express what you can with your eyes, refusing to move your hands. _What a stupid asshole._

Taro makes the sign for _safe,_ eyebrows raised in question, and you nod your head slowly.

                “He says he understands,” you tell Hux. This is going to be a dangerous game of cat and mouse, you know that, and you can only hope Kylo Ren is not around to tap into your thoughts and see that you’re not playing the role of the good little neutral interpreter, not right now. There’s too much at stake for that.

                Taro seems to sense your reluctance, as he reaches out and puts his hand on the top of your head. “He’s greeting me,” you tell Hux. You’re not sure if you feel the Force at work or something else entirely, but you can feel Taro reconstructing the wall back in your mind, or maybe you only think you feel it because you know that's what he’s doing. You’re not sure how quickly Kylo Ren is going to tear it down, or how painful that is going to be, but it’s necessary for this conversation. You don’t know if Kylo Ren is out of sight but listening in, trying to determine where your true loyalties lie.

                “Tell him that all of his friends are dead,” Hux snaps. “He’s the only one left.”

                You pick up your hands. _He wants me to tell you that everyone’s dead but he just told me in the hallway that there are two of you still alive._

                “What is taking so long?” Hux demands. You spin around to look at him. “I told you to tell him that his friends are dead. His friends are dead. That’s four words. What are you telling him?”

                “Um, there’s a little thing called dynamic equivalence,” you snap. “Culturally, the concept of death with the Tortutaru is very complicated. You have your first death the – _fruit apple basket_ – and then you also have the - _fish bread -_ but you need to distinguish it from the _A-S-S-H-O-L-E._ ” The signs are authentic enough and you sign with such conviction that he just rolls his eyes and lets you get on with it.

                Taro turns back to you, and even though all he saw was _fruit apple basket fish bread asshole,_ he gets what you were trying to do. He picks up his hands. _Are you safe?_

You take a deep breath. Concentrate. “Just clarifying what you said,” you tell Hux. “That all of his friends are dead.” But as that’s what you’re physically saying, you’re signing something else entirely, trying to split yourself into two people that control your voice and your hands separately. You know your signing is going to suffer a bit as it’s not as natural to you as Basic, but short, simple sentences would be more than enough to get the point across. _Luckily Kylo Ren likes me. Been staying in his room. Not bad. He likes me._

Taro looks relieved, and Hux notices this. “What are you telling him?”

                “Just what you asked,” you insist. “He’s just relieved they’re at peace now.” You turn to Taro and sign “ _peace now_ ” saying it out loud for emphasis, and Taro just nods, blindly trusting you and going along with whatever the hell it is that you’re doing. Honestly, you have to be at the top of your game right now, because there have been so many times in the past that you had accidentally signed what you meant to say or said what you meant to sign, and that would have extremely fatal results if you slipped up here.

                “We want a list of names,” Hux says. “Of everyone that was involved in this and everyone who you interacted with on base, including everyone that was truly Force-sensitive. We want every name you gave to the Resistance.”              

                You turn to Taro. _He wants names. Are you okay? What did they do to you?_

 _Don’t worry about me. Keep yourself safe around Kylo Ren._ You resist the urge to roll your eyes. How many times had he encouraged you to do that? Shouldn’t he know by now that Kylo Ren wasn’t really as bad as everyone said he was? Or did he know something you didn’t?

                “Well?” Hux demands, and you turn to Taro sharply.

                _He wants an answer_ , you warn him. Taro nods and gives you the sign to proceed, and so you start talking as he signs. “Taro says that they never wrote anything down so there wouldn’t be a paper trail. He says that B handled actually contacting the Resistance to give them the names but you aren’t going to get any answers now because-” You can’t believe what you're seeing as you watch Taro cut through the air with his finger, but you mutter it anyway. “-because I watched Kylo Ren run him through with his lightsaber.”

                “Oh, Ren didn’t tell you about that?” Hux asks, and you turn to glare at him. It made sense, you tell yourself. B had used him and he was just as bitter and angry and vengeful about it as you were. You had _assumed_ he had killed him, but somehow the confirmation made it all the more damning. After all of that goading to be angry at B, he never once mentioned that he was the one who had killed him?  You stare at Taro, and he just closes his eyes and nods his head solemnly. You feel like you’re about to be sick, but you have a job to do here. You can talk to Ren, or yell at Ren, later.

                “Does he have any other useful information that he can give us?” Hux asks.

                “What?” you ask, turning to him sharply.

                “Is there anything else he knows?” Hux demands. You stare at him, incredulous, unable to shake the mental image of Kylo’s glowing red blade from your mind. “There’s no reason to keep him alive if he has nothing we need.”

                You turn sharply to Taro, your hands practically shaking as you stumble through your words. _They are going to kill you if you don’t know anything, quick, think of something._

                Taro just shakes his head as he points to you, repeating the sign for _safe._ You shake your head, not understanding. Suddenly, Hux holds up one hand and the Storm Trooper comes at you from behind, grabbing you by the neck as he pulls you roughly to your feet. You can feel the tip of the blaster pushing sharply against your lower back.

                “Ask him again if he doesn’t know anything,” Hux shouts.

                _Do you know anything?_ You ask quickly. _I think Hux might kill me._

                Taro just shakes his head, pointing at you as he makes the sign for _safe_ again. Suddenly, it all fits together. He wasn’t worried about his own safety; he was worried about yours. But he wasn’t phrasing it as a question. He was saying that you _are_ safe. And you were safe because…

                “You’re not going to kill me,” you huff, calling his bluff. “If you kill me, Kylo Ren is going to take that lightsaber of his and slice through your spine. You know I’m right.”

                “Are you so sure about that?” Hux asks. The Storm Trooper looks back at him uncertainly, and he signals for him to stop. He lets you go, and you drop back thankfully into the chair. “I should have known this would be a waste of time,” he snorts. “Let’s go.”

                You look back pleadingly at Taro, but he just nods and gestures for you to go. You reach out and put your hand on the top of his head. You know it didn’t do anything, but it made his earlier gesture look all the more convincing nonetheless. Maybe it was just a way for him to put the shield up in your mind, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t mean something else. Between you, it had developed into a friendly gesture of comfort and protection.

                Before you leave the room, you turn back to see Taro cross his fingers. _Best friend._ You repeat the sign back to him as you let the door slide shut behind you.

                Hux gestures to the Storm Troopers and they start leading the way out of the room, two in front of you, two behind you. “I hope that was helpful,” you say, making no attempt to hide the sarcasm in your voice.

                “Oh, yes, it was extremely insightful,” Hux replies. “Although I’m surprised Ren didn’t tell you that he was the one who killed that professor.”

                “He told me,” you reply simply, trying to get the upper hand. “I was just surprised that Taro was there to see it, that’s all.”

                “Really?” Hux asks. “And I’m guessing he told you that he flew into a rage and murdered the rest of your little friends too?”

                For a minute, your brain doesn’t know how to even process the question. Your jaw drops open, but you can’t recover yourself, not from this. “I-he-he didn’t,” you stammer, trying to form a cohesive thought. “They’re not dead. They were-”

                “Oh, yes, sold into slavery,” Hux says nonchalantly. “Right, I forgot that’s what he wanted to tell you. He figured you would be more cooperative if you assumed your friends were still alive. Not that you would find out the truth either way.”

                Your stomach sinks and you feel like you’re about to be sick, and it’s in that moment that you realize that you’re not headed back to Kylo Ren’s room. “Where are you taking me?” you ask softly.

                “To your new quarters,” Hux says, a smirk playing on his lips. “I believe you’ll find them, what was the word you used, _adequate_?”

                “I want to speak to him,” you say, struggling to keep your voice calm. “I want to speak to Ren.”

                “Ren?” Hux asks. “He’s far too busy to deal with the likes of you.” He leads you into a new area of the base that you had never been in before, but you can barely focus on where you’re going. Your heart is pounding in your chest, trying to pick apart what this all meant.

                Finally, he stops outside one door in particular. “I believe this is the one,” he says simply. He gestures for one of the Storm Troopers to open the door and another one grabs you by the arms as they steer you inside. You recognize the room and its plain white walls immediately. It’s the same cell that you were locked in before, after you had been captured the first time. You knew it was the same cell because there was a large blood stain in the corner where C had been bleeding out. Where he had probably died.

                “Ren is going to be so pissed when he finds out what you’re doing,” you snap at Hux.

                “Pissed?” Hux looks genuinely confused, and you hope it’s simply because he’s a fantastic actor. “Kylo Ren is the one who ordered you here.”

                You can feel your blood turn to ice in your veins. “Explain.” 

                “He figured we might need someone who could still communicate with the Tortutaru on board,” he says simply. “And so he figured, why not use you, the girl who was so easily manipulated in the first place? It would be so easy to manipulate you again, especially considering your feelings for Ren…” He smiles, gloating. “So he fucked you and pretended to care about you to see if there was anything else that you would divulge that he couldn’t see by getting into your mind. But considering we’re about to kill that green thing downstairs, I’d say we don’t really need your cooperation anymore. You’ve far exceeded your usefulness.”

                “You’re lying,” you tell him as the Storm Troopers walk out of the cell.

                Hux offers you a pitiful smile. “Ren was right. You are quite the pathetic little fool.” And with that, the door slams shut, leaving you locked alone with a cell of ghosts.

                “No,” you whisper quietly to yourself as you begin to pace the length of the room. You imagine the crimson glow of Ren’s lightsaber again. That was what he had used to kill B. That’s what you had assumed before, but now it was fact, irreversible fact. You can only imagine the fear in B’s eyes as he saw it coming, how he must have braced himself for that final burst of pain. It was okay when you had assumed that B had died like it was some sort of abstract concept, but it was another thing to picture his fear, his pain, before he was cut in half. And what about Sadie? And Ladson? And Shayne? Did Ren really kill them all?

                “No, he didn’t,” you whisper to yourself. “It’s just Hux being stupid. Kylo’s going to come get you out.”

                But even as you say it, you can’t be so sure. Kylo Ren had a reputation for being evil.  You were the only one who didn’t see it. Could it really be that you were so blinded by your feelings for him? You remember when you had accused him of using you. He had immediately turned the conversation back on himself; had that been a ploy to keep you distracted? And what did he say after that? That was when he said that he liked you. Unfortunate timing, or was Hux right? Was Kylo really just using you to keep you cooperative? Had he been fucking you this entire time just as another way of manipulating you and toying with your emotions, making you docile and receptive so you would do anything for him?

                “I’m not useful anymore,” you say quietly as you drop to your knees. With B and the others dead, and all the Tortutaru gone, they would have no need for you as a linguist or as an interpreter. Kylo could always keep you around to fuck you, but that’s probably why things had been drawn out as long as they had. There were a lot of other slaves out there in the galaxy to give him his release that weren’t as politically dangerous as you were. Not that they could take a punch as well as you could, but-

                You punch the floor with your first, immediately regretting the sharp sting of pain that ran up your arm. You had thought that the sparring and the play fighting was all a means of helping you protect yourself, but maybe that’s just what got him off? You clutch your throbbing wrist to your chest as you close your eyes and try to reach out to him with your mind. You can see the familiar blackness behind your eyelids, but something feels different somehow. You feel closed in, sealed off, and you suddenly remember that Taro had put the wall back up in your mind. It may disappear after they killed him, but right now it was stronger than ever, you could feel it. You weren’t going to be able to knock it down. You weren’t going to be able to reach out to him.

                You close your eyes and in the back of your mind, you can hear it, the steady hum of his lightsaber. Suddenly it’s followed by Sadie’s shriek, Ladson’s cry, Shayne’s yell. Down they go, one by one. You had been wrong before. The last time you were in this room you had said that B was going to be the last to die. But he had been first. Your friends had been next. And now it was Taro’s turn.

                You were wrong. B wasn’t going to be the last one to die. You were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES: Dynamic Equivalence: “maintaining the speaker’s intended interaction with an impact on the audience; when accomplished in an interpretation, the speaker’s goals and level of audience involvement is the same for both the audience who received the message in its original form and the audience who received the message through an interpreter” (Humphrey, J., & Alcorn, B. (2007). So You Want to be An Interpreter? An introduction to Sign Language Interpreting. 4th edition. Renton: H&H Publishing Co, Inc.)
> 
> I knew I kept my old interpreting textbooks around for a reason. If you're not totally sure what that means, don't worry about it, all you need to know is basically the reader was throwing out technical terms in order to make her bullshit sound more authentic, which I'm pretty sure just made her 100% more relatable to anyone currently in/going to/or has just graduated from college. 
> 
> Not that that really matters right now, all things considered........ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Until tomorrow!!


	21. Chapter 21

                You received a few cups of water and one plate of food per day. The first day you had smashed the plate into the wall, but the next day you had swallowed the small amount of food they gave you in a minute flat, licking the crumbs off the plate with your tongue. This went on for seven days, although you weren’t quite sure if that was the right number. It could have been as little as three or four, or as many as ten, you weren’t really good at keeping count. You wished you had Ladson’s knife with you now to keep track, but honestly if you had it on you, you probably would have done something else with it by now. Anything would have been better than slow death by starvation. It made you feel weak, and the worst thing about feeling weak was that it made you feel vulnerable and helpless. If someone came into the room to finish you off once and for all, you at least wanted to put up some kind of a fight. You wanted to have at least some sort of dignified death.

                But you weren’t going to have a dignified death. That was now impossible. You had been locked in one room for seven days straight. You had already dedicated the corner where Shayne had been sitting as your bathroom corner, although the stink had started to permeate the cell and you were sure you reeked of the foul smell of your own urine. You used a small amount of water each day to wash you face and your hands, but that hardly even seemed like enough. For all intents and purposes, you looked and smelled like a mangy dog, ready to be put down. It was an apt comparison, you realized, considering you were starting to go mad with the solitude and isolation. If anyone did enter your cell, they would most likely describe you as feral.

                As the days passed, you got weaker and weaker, just lying on the floor with your eyes shut for hours on end. You were sure you were probably close to a natural death by the time the door opened up again. At least the door hadn’t opened while you were caught in a compromised position; that would have been sufficiently awkward. No, instead the door opened while you were thankfully lying on your side in the fetal position, knees curled up to your chest. Standing had become somewhat of a chore to you, and so you simply stayed on the floor, crawling to the small latch in the door to get your food and your small cups of water every day. How you weren’t already dead from sheer lack of will to live was a mystery to you in and of itself. But you knew why you still held on; your mind still clung to that bitter notion of revenge.

                It was clear to you now that Kylo Ren knew you were here, and simply wasn’t coming for you. After all, you couldn’t remember him telling you that he was leaving on any sort of assignment, which simply meant that he was on the base, knew you were missing, and didn’t care. And if he didn’t care about you, then he probably did kill your friends. At least you thought you had given him a reason to care about you, but he had absolutely no reason to care about their lives, none at all. You didn’t want to believe that Hux had been telling the truth, but Ren hadn’t come to rescue you. He hadn’t sent anyone else to come rescue you, and it seemed unfathomable to believe that he didn’t know where you were. No, you had been weak, and stupid, and you had let him get in your head and manipulate you for his physical pleasure. The others had been right. He was a disturbed, evil, twisted person, and you were going to kill him. You swore up and down that you wouldn’t let yourself die until you found some way to end his reign of suffering once and for all, whispering the words over and over to yourself like some sick little mantra.

                Your eyes were open as he walked in, and you could see even him freeze mid-step as the foul stench of your defecations wafted out into the corridor. You can’t help but smirk and emit a dry cough. You were sure that you reeked of something awful, but at least your nose had grown accustomed to the smell and it no longer affected you as much as it had the first few days. Nevertheless, he walks into the room, closely followed by two Storm Troopers. You scooch back a little, away from the door.

                “Hux told me you gave him trouble,” he says, his voice distorted through the helmet. You had gotten so used to his regular voice that you had completely forgotten what he sounded like through the voice distortion. You thought you would hate it as much as you remembered, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. This was who Kylo Ren was. There wasn’t a man beneath the mask; there was just that, the mask, and nothing else. Just a horrifying, loathsome creature that deserved to be put down instead of you.

                “Come to fuck me one last time before you kill me?” you ask carelessly, surprised by how firm your voice still sounds. You get to your feet, slowly, painfully, using the wall to support you. One of your legs gives way and so you kneel in front of him, propping yourself up on one leg so you don’t look like you’re begging. “Because I’m warning you now, I will slit your throat the second that you fall asleep.”

                One of the Storm Troopers steps forward but Ren holds up a hand to stop him. Slowly, you feel yourself rising into the air as he pulls you towards him with the Force. You don’t resist. If this is how he wants to kill you, then fine, it didn’t matter, just as long as he got it over with. You’re seething, spitting mad, lips pulled back in a snarl, starring at him with as much hatred as you can muster, your mind racing the terrible names you want to call him, trying to figure out which among them will inevitably be your last word.

                “Sleep,” he says suddenly, and as he holds up his other hand, your eyes slip closed. You’re aware of falling into his arms, and then everything goes black.

                You don’t know how long you’re out for, only that when you come to, you realize that you’re back in Kylo Ren’s bed. You sit up and quickly take stock of yourself. You’re not wearing any clothes, and you look like you’ve lost a decent amount of weight. You didn’t weigh much before, but at least you’re thankful that you don’t look downright skeletal. Your hair is still damp behind your head where you had slept on it, and you realize immediately that he must have stripped you down and bathed you. Sure, you smelled awful, but why do that? Why had he locked you in a cell for a week and then brought you back here as if nothing had happened?

                Quickly, you slip out of bed, ignoring the protests in your muscles as you pull on a fresh pair of clothes. You feel stronger than you probably should, all things considered. You grab your staff, and although it probably wouldn’t kill him unless you jammed it through his throat, that could be arranged. You wander into the kitchen to see a plate of food sitting on the counter and are about to launch yourself at it when you stop yourself. Was it a trap? Was it poisoned? If it was, there were probably worse ways to go. You sit down and start shoveling food into your mouth, barely even bothering to chew. Your stomach feels full after the first two bites, but you push yourself anyway, immediately feeling nauseous. You look down and realize that you haven’t even eaten a quarter of the plate and you already can’t stomach anymore.

                There’s a sudden flash of movement behind you and you get to your feet and grab your staff as Kylo Ren comes out of one of his back rooms. You hold your staff at an angle as you brandish it in front of you.

                “Really?” he asks. He’s still wearing his full armor, and his voice is again distorted by the mask.

                “I’m going to kill you,” you tell him. “So you better kill me first, because I am not going to let you lay a hand on me ever again.”

                He pauses for a moment. There is literally no way you can kill him, there just isn’t. Your staff isn’t strong enough to break through his armor. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t go down fighting anyway. “What did Hux tell you?”

                “Everything,” you snap. “You should have been there. He had so much fun throwing it in my face how you manipulated me. He told me all about how you killed B, how you killed my friends, how you fucked me to keep me docile and cooperative.” You want to keep going, but you can’t. “You used me this entire time, you used me, and I made it so easy for you.” You hate him, and in that moment you realize you have to hate him to stop you from hating yourself. You had let your emotions get the better of you. You had allowed yourself to be manipulated, and you would not make that mistake again.

                He bows his head as if he’s considering what you’re saying. “You do seem to be quite easily manipulated,” he says, and it’s all you can do not to howl in frustration.

                “I’m going to kill you,” you growl. “I swear, the second you let your guard down-”

                He comes at you suddenly, and you’re afraid he’s going to hit you, but instead he drops to one knee in front of you. With the helmet still on, he holds out his hand, offering something for you to take. His lightsaber. “Do it, then.”

                You blink at him before you turn your eyes down to stare at the hilt. That was the thing that killed B. That killed your friends. It would be poetic justice to run him through with his own blade. But something felt wrong. Why would he just let you do it? Why would he make it that easy? You glare at him through the slit in his mask as the realization hits you. You’re weak. You’re weak and he knows it. You’re not a murderer. You can’t kill him. He may have killed all of your friends, but you can’t bring yourself to kill him, especially not with his own weapon.

                “Go fuck yourself with it,” you snap as you storm back into the bedroom. You throw yourself down on the bed and pull the blankets up over you, trying to figure out your next move. So, again, you weren’t dead. You were back in Kylo Ren’s room. He had just admitted to manipulating you; did he really think that you could forgive him for that? Suddenly you hear someone lie down next to you on the bed, and you quickly roll over to punch him in the face before he has time to react. His fingers close around your wrist at the last second, and you’re so close that you can feel the edge of his nose just brush against your knuckles.

                “I’m going to kill you,” you tell him again, although you don’t sound so sure this time. He’s not wearing his helmet or his armor now. You catch the expression on his face and see that he looks both weary and defeated, but you can’t figure out why.

                “So you keep saying,” he sighs. “We need to talk.”

                “Oh, yes, I remember how you like to talk.” You try to punch him with your other fist but he grabs it easily as he pulls you into his chest. You’re not sure how to attack him from this angle, and so you just lie there and wait. Hopefully he’ll fall asleep and then you can find something in the kitchen to stab him with while he’s sleeping. Maybe you couldn’t bring yourself to kill him, but it would at least hopefully buy you some time to try to escape.  

                “Hux was playing you,” he says quietly, and you pause for a moment, deciding to at least listen to what he has to say. “I was called off base on an urgent bit of business. I came back to find you gone. I had no idea where you were. Hux said that he had tried to use you to communicate with one of the Tortutaru and that you had attacked one of his troops trying to free him.”

                “Hux is full of shit,” you scoff into his chest.

                “And yet you believed everything he told you about me.” He puts his hands on your shoulders as he pushes you away and stares at you, looking you in the eye. “All this time we’ve spent together and you really think I would be so cruel to you? I knew the second Hux told me you attacked one of his men that it was bullshit, and yet you believed him?”

                Your brain goes numb and you don’t know how to defend yourself. Instead, you go on the offensive. “Do you know how long I was locked in there for?”

                “Longer than necessary,” he says quietly. “If it makes any difference, Phasma is furious. She had no idea that you were locked in there, either.”

                “And I’m just supposed to believe that?” you snap. You’re too tired for this; you’re too tired for all of this. “Did you kill B? Yes or no.”

                “Yes,” he says, and you’re honestly surprised how quickly he admits to it.

                “Why didn’t you tell me?” you demand angrily, your hands clenching into fists at your sides.

                Now he does hesitate. “Because I didn’t know how you would react. But it had to be done.”

                “I knew you did,” you admit quietly. “I don’t know I knew, but I just knew you were the one who killed him.” You let out a deep breath. “Was he afraid when he died? Was he scared?”

                “He knew it was coming,” he replies tersely.

                “And the others?” you ask, your voice breaking. “Did-did they scream? Were they scared?”

                He pauses, confused. “Who are you talking about?”

                “Did you kill my friends?” you demand.

                “No,” he replies simply. “No, Hux wanted to deal with them. My focus was on keeping you alive. I let him do with them as he saw fit.”

                “So you could use me,” you mutter petulantly.

                He squeezes your forearms painfully, forcing you to look up at him. “Is that what you think?” he demands. “If that’s what you honestly believe, then say it. Look me in the eye and _fucking_ say it.”

                You slowly bring your eyes up to meet his. He looks sad, but worse than that, he looks hurt, like you were the one who betrayed him instead of the other way around. Had Hux really said all of that just to drive a wedge between you and Kylo? Is that really what had happened?

                You just lower your eyes without saying anything, and Kylo thrusts you away from him like he’s disgusted with you. You roll over, putting your back to him. You think you can hear him curse under his breath, and you screw your face up, willing yourself not to cry. “I’m sor-” 

                But he’s immediately off the bed, and he storms out of the room before you can even finish your sentence. You can hear muffled yelling from the next room over and the steady hum of his lightsaber as he lashes out at whatever is in the next room adjacent to the living room. You don’t know what’s in there as you had never dared to venture inside, but you figure that might just be a room where he vents his rage. You close your eyes, still weak with exhaustion, as you drift in and out of it. Eventually, you’re aware that Kylo comes back to bed, although he doesn’t come near you. He doesn’t even touch you.

                “Kyl-” 

                “Don’t talk.”

                You suppress a sob in your chest. You’re not really sure what to believe now. Either Kylo had manipulated you or Hux had manipulated you, but for some reason you were now sure it was the latter. Kylo had been kind to you, but the second Hux had told you that he was manipulating you, you had believed him. Did that say more about you or more about Kylo? You couldn’t be sure. It was understandable that you would have trust issues after what had just happened to you, but had Kylo ever purposely deceived you for his own ends? Aside from not telling you about B, you couldn’t recall a time that he had.

                You scooch back towards him, slowly, wiggling yourself under the blankets to make the motion seems as inconspicuous as possible. Suddenly, you feel a hand on your arm, stopping you, and you flinch as you feel his fingers press uncomfortably into the muscles of your upper arm, preventing you from moving back any more. You stay where you are and sulk quietly into the pillow, trying to make up your mind as to what to do next. Eventually, the grip on your arm relaxes and he strokes your tender skin with his thumb. The gesture is soothing, and you allow yourself to feel comforted by it.

                “I’m sorry that I did not protect you,” he says softly, although there is still a distinct note of anger in his voice. “I should have warned you about Hux.”

                 You roll over and press your face into his chest, and he wraps his arms around you. Right now you don’t care if Kylo did manipulate you; you want to be comforted. Besides, even if he had truly manipulated you before, what could he possibly have to gain by doing it now?

                “Is Taro dead?” you ask quietly.

                He pauses for a moment. “I don’t know,” he replies. “As soon as we landed, I came here to see you. And when I couldn’t feel you-”

                The realization sets in. “Taro put up the wall,” you say quietly. “Are you going to take it down again?”

                “Perhaps,” he replies. Your body stiffens beneath him, remembering how painful it was the last time he had done so. “But I’m not going to do it now, at any rate. You’re still too weak.”

                You suck in a breath and let it out. Right now, Kylo seems to be in a rare talking mood. You don’t want to talk right now, but you needed answers. “So if Taro is dead, you don’t need me to interpret for him anymore. So why am I still alive?” He scowls, confirming your idle suspicions. “Are you telling me that Hux didn’t kill me because he was afraid of what you would do to him if he did?”

                His eyes light up with good humor. “Perhaps,” he says again.

                “I knew it,” you mutter. “I knew it when he had that Trooper shove a blaster into my back. I knew he wasn’t going to kill me. I told him you would have sliced through his spine the second you-” 

                You stop talking. All the humor has drained from Kylo’s face, and he’s almost glaring at you now. “You threatened Hux?” he asks in a snarl.

                “Technically he threatened me first,” you stammer. “He, he- I-” 

                Kylo releases a long, aggravated sigh. “If you are to stay here, you can’t threaten Hux. I can only protect you so much.”

                “And what am I going to do here?” you ask. “Like I said, if I’m not going to be an interpreter, what else am I good for?” He presses his lips to your temple, but you’re not satisfied with that answer. “As much as I like-” you take a deep breath and let it out, “- _you_ , I need to do something on this base. I can’t just stay here day in and day out doing nothing.”

                “I’ll see what I can do,” he says. “But you need to lie low for a while. You could have died in that cell. You need time to recover.”

                You twist your face into a grimace as you take the time to think it over. Hux had manipulated you against Kylo, had locked you in the same cell that C had died in, and had basically left you there to rot because if he had killed you outright, he knew it would have put his own life in jeopardy. You hated him, not just because of what he did, but because he had made you lose trust in Kylo, made you lose trust in your own judgement. He had preyed on your insecurities and used them against you, just for his own amusement. Kylo wasn’t so bad. Phasma wasn’t so bad. But Hux? No wonder he was the General of the First Order – he was pure evil.

                “I can sense your anger,” Kylo says warningly.

                “I’m going to kill him,” you whisper angrily.

                You expect Kylo to be angry with you, but instead he just sounds indifferent. “You didn’t kill me, and you sure threatened it enough.”

                You grunt. It had been a threat, but an idle one. You both knew it. Not only were you not strong enough to kill him, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to do it. “You’re my weakness,” you tell him. He seems surprised as he looks down at you, as you remember the conversation that you had back in your old apartment, back when he had admitted that you were _his_ weakness. You had told him right then that you were just a pawn, a tool at his disposal. Maybe that’s why it had been so easy to believe what Hux had told you; it was something that you had been telling yourself all along.

                He presses his lips to your forehead and you close your eyes and snuggle into him, slowly drifting back off to sleep. You have horrible nightmares that night, and you were not one that usually dreamed at all. You dreamed that you were back in that cell, except the walls were lined with the bodies of all of your friends. Their faces were blank, lifeless, eyes closed, and their bodies looked like they had been burned and hacked to bits by Kylo Ren’s lightsaber. You turned to look at them in turn: Sadie, Ladson, Shayne, B, C, Taro – they were dead, all dead, their fragile skin burned, charred black where he had struck them. Suddenly, the door to your cell flew open and a masked figure was standing there, dressed completely in black. You took a step backwards and fell to the ground as his lightsaber started to hum, glowing red and angry in front of you. You closed your eyes, holding up your hands to shield yourself, and-

                That was when you had opened your eyes, breathing heavily, your body dripping with sweat. It took you no more than a split second to realize that you were alone, and you immediately kicked the covers off of you and ran into the living room, pulling the curtains aside to take a look at the bleary, snowy landscape that surrounded you. That was it; you had to get off of this base, one way or another. You couldn’t trust Kylo Ren to keep you safe. You could trust him not to hurt you, for now, but if Hux hated you, he could make life downright unpleasant for you. What if Kylo had to go on another assignment and you were left alone here with Hux? What if he decided to throw you back in that cell? Or worse?

                You’re distracted from your thoughts by the muffled sound of shouting outside the apartment. You can hear the telltale sound of blaster fire and your heart races in your chest. You don’t even have time to run back into your room to grab your staff as the doors to the living room fly open and you’re confronted with your intruders. You quickly step back into a fighting stance on instinct before your eyes meet his face.

                “Taro?” you gasp.

                He nods, and his mouth twists into the semblance of a smile.

                “What are you doing?” you ask, making no effort to sign as you look him over. He’s with another Tortutaru, the Leader, by the looks of him, although they’re both bleeding quite badly, as small rivulets of purple drip over their dark green skin. They’re both holding a blaster in each wounded hand, and Taro offers one to you.

                He holds up his free hand in front of him, spelling out the word slowly. _Escape._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: Sorry this chapter was late today! I woke up this morning with either a sinus infection or a bad head cold or something icky. But I think you all might be happy to know that I had super weird dreams last night and I had an idea to turn this story into a trilogy. I don't know how this stuff happens to me, I really don't, but hey, if you guys want to read it, I'm going to post it. 
> 
> Until tomorrow, cheers!!


	22. Chapter 22

                You stare at Taro in hesitation, replaying the word over and over again in your mind. _Escape. Escape. Escape._ You had wanted to escape, just now, but the timing seemed way too perfect for it to be coincidental. You point to your forehead, tilting your head to the side.

                “ _You put that dream in my head?_ ” you ask, your hands fumbling in front of you as you struggle to get the words out.

                He nods, making a series of quick signs, but his hands are badly injured and you can tell it’s a struggle to even move his fingers. _Vision. Danger. Need to go now._

You breathe out, brushing your hair out of your face with one hand. You needed to get out of this base, that much was true, but you didn’t have any idea how. Could you get out through the hangar? Did they even know how to pilot a ship? You sure couldn’t.

                The Leader can see you stalling, thinking it over, and quickly steps forward. _Only take one._

 _Only take one?_ You repeat, confused. One what? One person? Taro points to you, and you tilt your head to the side, not understanding. Taro points to you again, forcefully, and then it dawns on you. _The others?_ You hold up three fingers. _They’re still alive? They’re still on this base?_

Taro nods and points to you again. _No._ You shake your head back and forth quickly. If your friends were still on this base, then you weren’t going anywhere. But why did Kylo not tell you that? Was there more he was keeping from you? Or were there certain things that Kylo himself didn’t know?

                Taro grabs your arm, but you pull away from him. _No, take them,_ you sign desperately. You move your hand into a fist and shake it in front of you, imitating Sadie’s name sign. _Save her. Take her home._

 _Can’t,_ Leader responds.

                _Don’t know where_ , Taro adds, pointing to your forehead. Suddenly, it all comes together. Yes, Taro had put the wall in your head, but apparently that meant he could do other things too, like place visions in your head and track you to your thoughts. Obviously Taro had been a lot more powerful than he had originally let on.

                _I’m staying_ , you sign firmly, thrusting your hand down in front of you, your pinky and thumb extended.

                _K-R_ , Taro signs, shaking his head from side to side to show his disapproval. 

                _My friends,_ you insist. You tap your wrist with one finger and shake your head. _There isn’t time._

The Leader turns to you. _Sadie. Will try._ You nod your head appreciatively as he tugs on Taro’s arm. Taro, however, looks hesitant to leave you. You just force a smile in his direction, holding up your fingers in a loose knot.

_Friend._

Taro nods at you and crosses his fingers together. _Best friend._ He puts his hand on your head for a final time, and you nod at him as he turns to go out the door. He looks back at you quickly and spells something with one hand. _Hide._

                You nod as the door closes behind you as you dash back into the bedroom, running around to the far side of the bed and throwing yourself down on the floor. You can hear shouting and blaster fire in the distance, followed by footfalls that get closer and closer to your door. You quickly scoot yourself under his bed as you hear someone come inside, and you make yourself as small as possible, forcing your breathing to remain calm as you push your breaths in and out through your nostrils.

                You hear the sound of multiple pairs of boots walking around your kitchen before they come into the bedroom. From your spot under the bed, a pair of white boots appears in your field of vision and your heart pounds in your chest.

_Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down._

                “Don’t see the girl,” one of them says.

                “No, I think she ran off with them,” another says.

                One of them laughs, but it’s a dry, bitter sound. “Who’s going to tell Kylo Ren that she escaped?”

                “Not me,” the other voice replies. “Didn’t you see what he did to Hux?” It’s all you can do to stifle a snort. Of course Kylo was going to get his revenge on Hux for hurting you. It wouldn’t be like him if he didn’t. Kylo may have still seen you as his property, at least partially, and so any attack against you was seen as a personal assault.

                “I don’t want to tell him,” the other says.

                “Flip a coin?”

                “Dude, I’m not losing my life over a coin toss.”

                “So, what then? We tell him together?”

                “Let’s just wait it out.” He walks out of the room, and you let yourself exhale a deep sigh of relief. “There’s no way they’re going to escape the base. They’ll be shot dead before they even get to the hangar.”

                “But didn’t Ren say that he wanted the girl captured alive?”

                “And Hux said stop them at all costs,” the voice replies. “Who are you more afraid of?”

                “Do you really want me to answer that?” Their voices drop off as they leave and you allow yourself to relax. Well, Kylo wanted you alive. Of course he wanted you alive. He probably wanted to kill you himself for trying to escape. He would take it personally; you knew that, there was no way he wouldn’t. The real question was how he was going to react when he realized you were still here.

                You roll yourself out from under the bed and lie on the floor, staying relatively hidden, and try to think it over. Okay, Taro and the Leader were trying to escape, and from the sounds of things, they probably wouldn’t have time to go for Sadie or anyone else. You remembered Taro telling you once, a long time ago, that he could fly some kind of ship, but the whole conversation had been brought up in passing and you hadn’t really paid attention at the time. And sure, maybe he had flown one vessel, but could he fly whatever they managed to find in the hangar?

                You feel a sinking feeling in your chest as you let the real reason you didn’t go with them sink in. They weren’t going to make it. You had no idea why they were even still alive, but the First Order obviously wanted them for something. But now that they had tried to escape, they were dangerous, a threat. Would they risk locking them up again? No, Hux said to stop them at all costs. They were going to die here either way.

                You shake your head. No, they were strong. You had to have _some_ faith in Taro. If they could get to a ship, they could get away. It wasn’t that improbable. Sure, they were big, and green, and easy to spot at a distance, but they had blasters of their own. They could fight back. They probably had their own telepathic powers to help them get away that you didn’t even know about. They would be fine, you decide. Either way, you can’t force yourself to dwell on it.

                You have bigger problems to worry about.

                Your friends were still on this base, somehow, somewhere. But why? For what purpose? Were they locked in cells like you had been? Had they also been brought before Taro to interpret? Is that how he knew they were still alive? You can’t be sure of anything, and honestly, you’re a little frustrated with yourself for not thinking of it sooner. True, you hadn’t exactly been allowed out of this room to explore, but you sure would have tried a lot harder if you had known your friends were still here. 

                You feel a stinging sensation in your chest and suddenly you’re mad at Kylo all over again. Why hadn’t he told you? Did he not know? How could he not know, unless Hux was keeping more from him than he had let on? You think it over. While Hux had kept you locked up, Ren had been away on some week-long mission that he of course told you nothing about. At first you had thought that Kylo was in charge of the Starkiller Base just as much as Hux was, but you were starting to get the feeling that that wasn’t entirely true. Hux commanded everyone on base and dictated what happened inside it, but Kylo, what did he do? Storm around the base and throw tantrums? With his Force powers, he was definitely more powerful than Hux, you knew that. So, what? Did he just loom around with Hux until an assignment came up that required his specialized skills?

                Too many questions, and again, no answers. You were going to have to start making a list of all the things you didn’t know, but then again, it would only frustrate you to see how many questions you had that he would never give you the answers to. Maybe he would, with time, but you needed to sort out your priorities. Your relationship or whatever this was with Kylo Ren had suddenly taken a dramatic shift over to the back burner. He couldn’t get in your head, at least not right now, and you could use this to your advantage. It should probably concern you how up and down your feelings towards him were, but your feelings weren’t a concern right now, nor could they ever be.

                This was about survival. You would never be a relationship of equals, not truly, not while you were still his prisoner here. And even if you finally got permission to move about the base, you would still technically be a prisoner. If you had told him you wanted to leave, told him you wanted to take your friends and go back to your home planet, would he let you go? No, you couldn’t imagine he would. If he did, it would be a selfless act, an act of love, and you couldn’t see him doing that. He didn’t have it in him. He liked you, and he cared about you, but only so much as he wanted to possess you, to have you for his own, and while you liked being possessed and consumed by him, you still had to acknowledge how fucked up the whole thing was.

                You shake your head. Okay, focus. You needed to focus and get your shit together before he came back. You needed to develop a plan to know how to spin this. Sadie, Ladson, Shayne. You had to assume that with the Storm Troopers on their tail that Taro and the Leader didn’t have time to rescue any of them, which meant that you had to. But where were they? What would they be used for? Either they were still locked away in the cells, or they were being used somewhere on base. But where would they be? Were they being used as slave labor? Shayne was a good cook; was it possible he was in the kitchen? Ladson could fight; would they train him as a Storm Trooper? You remember when you had joked about the First Order drafting him – that suddenly became a lot less funny. And Sadie? Sadie was a girl. They wouldn’t have her fight. They wouldn’t have her doing hard labor. No, she was a young, beautiful girl, which only meant-

                You make a noise in the back of your throat like you were about to vomit. Sadie was being used in the same way as you were being used, although at least you and Kylo had come to a sort of understanding about it. After all, you had been intimate with him even before you had been captured, and what’s more, you wanted him, so you preferred not to think of your situation that way if you could help it. But Sadie? Sadie was probably being tortured and defiled. It made you sick to think about, and yet, you had to think about it if you were going to help her. The real question was, and you hated to think of it this way, but was she communal property? Or was she the victim of just _one_ person?

                A name immediately leaps into your mind and you push it away, because it’s too terrible, too disgusting to think about, and it makes tears spring to your eyes as you can only imagine the ways she’s being tortured. And if what you suspected was true, it would also make sense why Kylo didn’t know she was still here. But that, of course, meant that you definitely were going to have to do something to help her escape, but you needed Kylo Ren to do it, and if he wouldn’t help you willingly, then you were just going to have to manipulate him into helping. There was no other way to go about it.

                You lie on the floor for hours, not daring to move, only occasionally getting up for cups of water to hold you over. You’re hungry again, no surprise there, but considering the fact that they thought you had escaped, no one was coming to bring you food. You think it over. Yes, Taro had told you to hide and you followed it without question, but why? What did you need to hide from, exactly? Unless hiding served as a distraction. If the First Order realized that you weren’t with Taro, then they might have split up their resources searching for you. And if there were people looking for you, then there were less people trying to hunt down Taro. You had no idea if that was his idea, but it was a pretty smart move if it was, sending half of the First Order’s resources on a wild goose chase when you were safely in Kylo’s room the whole time.

                Either way, you still didn’t dare get up and move about the apartment, and you had just started to fall asleep on the floor when you heard angry footsteps entering the room. It was Kylo. You weren’t quite sure how you knew, if you had somehow learned to differentiate his footfalls from everyone else’s or if it was the Force or your connection at work, but you knew it was him. You heard him storming through the apartment, momentarily pausing in the kitchen, before looming in the doorway to the bedroom. You stayed on the floor, your breath caught in your chest. Should you get up? Should you not? Suddenly you were afraid. Very, very afraid.

                You hear him yell underneath the mask as he storms back into that secret little room of his in the living room and you can hear his screams through his helmet. He doesn’t just sound angry, he sounds like he’s almost in pain, and you silently hope that Taro hadn’t shot him with a blaster or something. Was his armor strong enough to deflect blaster hits? You doubted it. Silently, you get to your feet and make your way into the living room, being as quiet as possible. You have no idea how Kylo is going to react when he sees you, but you can’t hide forever. You stand near the entrance to the living room, waiting for him to calm down, when he suddenly appears in the doorway, still seething, his shoulders heaving in rage. The lightsaber is still in his hands and as soon as he lays his eyes on you, it’s as if everything stops, at least for a brief moment.

                He comes at you suddenly, his stride set with purpose. You know, at least, you think you know, what’s about to happen. You take a step backwards and fall to the ground as his lightsaber starts to hum, glowing red and angry in front of you. You close your eyes, raising your hands up in front of you to shield yourself, just like in the dream you had last night. Suddenly, time moves ridiculously slowly and you have time to think. You had confronted Taro about your dream. You had asked him if he put that dream in your head last night, and he had responded in the affirmative but he had used the word _vision_. Did he know this was going to happen? Did he have some kind of foresight that showed him that Kylo Ren was about to kill you? Had he passed that message along to you in the hopes that it would save your life? Is that why he had taken the time to try to help you escape with them?

                _Too late now_ , you think bitterly, as you wait for the blast of pain that would end your life. But it doesn’t come. Instead, Kylo falls to his knees in front of you, pulling you into his chest. You freeze for a moment, not quite sure how to respond. Instead, you just let him hold you, your arms pinned uncomfortably to your sides. He pulls away from you just as quickly, placing each large hand on either side of your head as he gets a good look at you, studying your face. Nervously, you do something you’ve never done before as you reach up and touch his helmet, running your fingers against the cool metal grooves. You can’t see his expression through the slit in his mask, but for once, you’re not sure you want to.

                He unlatches the mechanism at the base of the helmet and pulls it off, his dark hair falling in front of his face. He brushes it aside as he looks at you, really looks at you, and although you meet his eyes for a second, you have to look away. His dark eyes are filled with emotion like you’ve never seen them before, and he looks downright afraid. Kylo Ren wasn’t just upset, he was distraught, and you suddenly felt a pang of guilt in your chest for making him worry about you. Suddenly, everything that you thought about in the past few hours just got way more complicated and ten times more confusing. You had thought that you would have to be performing at your best in order to manipulate him into helping you save Sadie and the others, but right now, on his knees in front of you, it looked like he would do just about anything for you.

                “Hi,” you say softly, in a desperate attempt to break the silence. You had never seen Kylo like this before. You had seen him nervous and unsure of himself, angry and vengeful, cocky and arrogant, but you had never seen this look before.

                He grabs you on either side of your face and presses his lips to yours. You kiss him back, momentarily allowing yourself to lose yourself in the familiar sensation. When he finally pulls away, you almost feel dizzy from the emotions flowing between you. Silently, you’re almost thankful that Taro put the wall in place to damper your connection, otherwise you would have been completely overwhelmed.

                “I thought you were dead,” he says, his voice low and quiet. He glances down at your lips before his eyes flick upwards, holding your gaze. “But you stayed.” His forehead creases, almost like he doesn’t understand, as he runs his gloved fingertips down your cheek. “You stayed for me.”

                You stayed for your friends, but right now there’s no way he can know that. Not trusting your voice, you just bite your lip and nod your head in a quick series of ups and downs, trying to make the gesture look as authentic as possible. A look passes over his face, and it looks like relief.

                Suddenly, you make the connection. “Wait,” you say softly. “If you thought I was dead-”

                He looks away from you and you can feel your breath hitch in your throat. “No,” you whimper softly. You close your eyes and right in front of you, you can see Taro as he was leaving. _Best friend._ Should you have tried to convince him to stay? Should you have tried to protect him somehow? Was there something more you could have done?

                You had never truly cried in front of Kylo Ren before. “No, no, no.” You beat against his chest with your fists, but his armor seems to swallow the force of impact as he doesn’t even flinch. Somehow, it makes the whole thing worse. “No, no, no.” You press your forehead into his shoulder and he wraps his arms around you in a comforting gesture. He doesn’t apologize; he doesn’t say anything. He just sits there and holds you while you weep into his arms.

                For some reason, this was worse than losing B. B had asked you to go on this mission. B had planned to use you as bait, planned to set you up as a distraction. You had known him for years before he decided to betray you. But Taro? Taro didn’t know you. He knew that you had known nothing of the plan, but he had been open with you. He had at least set up the wall in your head. He had protected you, and you knew that he cared about you. Even despite all the nastiness with the First Order, he had been your friend. He had even hindered his escape by coming to try to save you first.

                “Tell me how,” you manage through your choked sobs. “Tell me how.”

                He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s not quite sure he should. “They made it out of the hangar,” he says at length.

                You grit your teeth, sensing something in his voice. “Your doing?”

                He lets the corner of his lip pull upwards in a sad smile. “I thought you were with them.” You take a moment to process this. You can imagine the ship trying to take off, being pelted by blaster fire. You could imagine Kylo walking in and using the Force to knock everyone back, allowing the ship to finally take off. “Hux went after them.”

                You mull this over in your head. Even if they were able to fly the ship, they probably wouldn’t have been much good at aerial combat. “So, they were shot down?” you ask softly, allowing your voice to get hopeful for absolutely no good reason. “So they crash landed on some planet? So they may still-”

                You’re silenced with one stern look from Kylo. You look down and close your eyes. No. They didn’t crash. They were blasted out of the sky. There was nothing left of them. You collapse miserably back into Kylo’s shoulder and he starts to stand, trying to pick you up with him. 

                “No,” you say, beating at his chest, pushing him back. “No, no.” You stumble as you get to your feet, but Kylo stays down on one knee, watching you cautiously. “No,” you say again, and you pace back and forth in short, quick strides, trying to think. “I’m not going to let Hux get away with this. I can’t.”

                “It’s done,” Kylo says firmly, getting to his feet. You suddenly realize just how much taller he is than you.

                “Hux killed him,” you snarl, with more venom in your voice than you had ever heard before. “Hux killed him. Hux locked me away. He tried to turn me against you. I’m going to make him pay for this.”

                “Stop this,” he says, grabbing your upper arms with both hands. He shakes you roughly, trying to shake some sense into you. “What good will come of getting revenge on Hux? What good will it do? Do you really think that you, alone, could kill him?”

                “I didn’t say kill him,” you snap, twisting out of his grasp. You turn your back to him, trying to think. “Do you trust me?” you ask, looking at him over your shoulder. He doesn’t answer. He just stares you down, trying to figure out what you’re thinking. Or maybe he’s just trying to figure out if you’ve completely snapped. “Don’t you want to get revenge?” you ask, trying a different tactic. “For what he did to me? I know what you did to him, but-”

                “How do you know about that?” Kylo snaps, taking a few steps toward you.

                “Maybe I’m more powerful than you realize,” you snipe back, immediately regretting it. With the wall in your head he may not have been able to read your thoughts or check the full extent of your Force powers, but he knew you. He knew you were untrained. It was a stupid bluff, and he wastes no time calling you on it. 

                “Delusional,” he corrects you. He lowers his gaze to yours, searching your face. “What aren’t you telling me?” He puts the palm of his hand flat against your temple and you suck a deep breath in, trying to figure out if it’s even worth it to try and fight. “Tell me or I push.”

                “He has Sadie,” you say immediately. He pulls his hand away from your face and stares at you, searching your face.

                “You’re sure?” he asks softly.

                “I’m sure,” you say, because now you are. If Kylo was willing to entertain the idea, then that meant that he knew that it was at least possible. “All of my friends are still here, Kylo.” He’s staring at you like he’s trying to make up his mind about something. “They shouldn’t stay here,” you tell him, trying to plead your case. “They had nothing to do with this. They’re my friends. I have a responsibility to help them.”

                “You’re not responsible for whatever happens to them,” he says, his voice quiet, but firm. “You weren’t the one who brought them here.”

                “But if I can do something-”

                “What can you do?” Kylo asks. His eyes are flashing. “You’re a prisoner here, just as they are.”

                You bite your lip and look away. You didn’t stay for Kylo. You stayed to try to help your friends. You had wanted to try to keep that hidden from him, but you couldn’t. He knew you too well, and the truth was written all over your face. “The only difference is I _want_ to be here,” you say softly, glancing back up at him.

                The change in his features is immediate and you’re silently pleased that you can have such an effect on him. At least a very small part of you honestly believed that to be true. “I don’t know about the rest of your friends,” he says after a moment. “But the girl-?”

                “Sadie,” you remind him. He sighs and rubs his face with both hands. You smile at him gleefully, bouncing on the toes of your boots. “You’ll do it? You’ll really help me rescue Sadie?”

                His eyes lock onto your face, and you hold your breath. “Under one condition.” You let out a long, slow exhale, waiting to hear it, although in the back of your mind you already know what’s coming. “You must promise that you will never try to escape. I can guarantee it won’t end well for you if you do.”

                You smile at him, pushing all of the innocence and assurance into your face that you can muster. “I promise.”

                He shakes his head, like this is something he’s going to regret doing. “And I suppose you know where she’s being held?”

                You don’t actually know where she’s being kept, but you nod anyway, letting a false sense of confidence mask your features. “We need to get into Hux’s room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, good news, bad news. Bad news? Taro's dead. Good news? Her friends are alive. Bad news? Hux is holding Sadie prisoner. Good news? Kylo might help her escape?! Bad news? Our reader seems to be becoming slowly unhinged and letting her anger get the better of her....but will her anger help her channel her Force powers? But at what cost? 
> 
> In other news, I'm still sick, but last night I did stay up late writing a 25-chapter outline for the sequel (well, I stopped at chapter 25, but it'll probably have 30 again, or at least 25-30.) Whereas this story starts out light and then gets considerably darker, the next story is actually going to be a bit more "fun" and I'm actually excited to finish up this story so I can start writing it!! 
> 
> PS: I AM SORRY FOR KILLING TARO but I just didn't think it would be realistic to have him escape. Even still, we're going to see how his death has a profound impact on the reader, and this is far from the last time he, or his escape attempt, will be mentioned. (And who says this is the last time we'll meet any Tortutaru? Maybe Taro has a brother or something running around out there. >.> )


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I just wanted to take the time to thank you so much for all your support. This story has over 100k words, almost 300 comments, 500+ kudos, 50+ bookmarks, and over TEN THOUSAND views, all in less than a month!! You guys are crushing everything off my ao3 bucket list, and it's incredible. I seriously can't thank you enough for all the positive support you guys have been giving me, especially to those of you who comment everyday, it really is appreciated. There's times when I feel stuck or just down or don't feel like writing, and whenever that mood hits, I seriously pull up your lovely comments and read through them to give me inspiration to write, so it really is worth it!! And to those who anonymously lurk and follow the story along too, I appreciate you guys too!! Thank you so much everyone!! <3

                You waited by the door, bouncing on your heels, anxiously waiting for Kylo to return. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you were this excited about anything. You remembered what it had been like packing at your academia with Sadie, anxiously trying to figure out what to bring on your six-month excursion to the Starkiller Base, both of you chatting nonstop about what you expected it to be like. Unfortunately, life hadn’t been like what you had expected. At all. If someone told you after your first week here that you would be sharing a bed with Kylo Ren in his private room every night before your six months here were up, you would have laughed in their face.

                However, if someone had warned you that B and C and Taro would all be dead and all of your friends would be prisoners on the Starkiller Base, you wouldn’t have laughed. You probably would have believed it. But would you have done anything about it? It was just one of those stupid hypotheticals your brain couldn’t help pondering. What could you have done about it, honestly? No one had told you anything. No one had given you any warning. No one could see the future, and so you were just going to have to take this one step at a time.

                And right now the first step was clear: find Sadie.

                The door opens and you anxiously jump to your feet as Kylo walks through. “Are you ready?” he asks through the voice distortion. He pulls off his helmet to get a better look at you and you nod, grabbing his head in both hands as you reach up on your tiptoes to press your lips against his in a firm kiss.

                “Thank you,” you say again.

                “You’re not going to thank me if you get caught,” he mutters, slipping the helmet back over his head again. For some reason, you’re not even fazed by the gravelly distortion as he says, “Let’s go.”

                As you walk through the corridors, you walk in step with Kylo, matching his stride, doing your best to look as menacing and indomitable as he is. Storm Troopers literally jump to the side as they avoid you, and you can’t help but let a smirk pull at the corners of your lips. You had to admit, there was a certain cool factor that came along with being feared.

                “Should we expect any complications?” you ask firmly, keeping your eyes locked straight ahead. Kylo turns his head towards you slightly, but you can’t imagine that he could see you very well through that narrow slit in his helmet.

                “Phasma should keep him preoccupied for a little while,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. You can understand that he’s trying to be discreet, but it just comes out as a blurry mess when he tries to whisper behind the modulator.

                “Hmm.” You raise your eyebrows and consider this. You remember when Kylo had told you that Phasma had been pissed at Hux for what he did to you. You want to ask him if you can see her, if she could stop by and visit you every now and again. You assumed that she was probably extremely busy, but…

                …this was neither the time nor the place to discuss this.

                It doesn’t take long to walk to Hux’s chamber, and you figure that this is probably where the elite of the First Order have their quarters. There is a Storm Trooper guarding the door, and Kylo wastes no time. “Leave,” he commands, and the Storm Trooper takes off running in the other direction.

                At first you’re confused, impressed, and hell, even a little turned on at his authority, but then another thought hits you. “That’s it?” you ask. “What if he comes back? Or tells Hux-?”

                “Better make it quick then,” he says.

                “Wait.” You freeze. You hadn’t really discussed a plan. “What about you? Aren’t you coming with?”

                “I don’t think that would help matters,” he says, and you tilt your head to the side and consider this. You knew Kylo had used his mind probe on her at least once, and there was no reason to spook her more than she already probably was. “Besides, we can’t rescue her today. I need more time to plan. First we need to know that she’s in there.”

                “Seriously?” you hiss, suddenly wishing that this was something you had known previously. You had half-expected to just go in guns blazing, grab Sadie, stuff her in a Storm Trooper suit and then just send her back home. “Okay, fine,” you breathe out. “Thanks.”

                “Be careful,” he says, and you steady yourself before you open the door.

                It’s locked.

                “Shit,” you curse under your breath. “Shit, Kylo, it’s locked, it’s-” He holds up his hand, and you can hear a click as he uses the Force to unlock the door. “Oh, show off,” you mutter good-naturedly. You turn to look at him, and you’re not sure how you know, but you can tell he’s smirking beneath the mask.

                “Be careful,” he repeats, but you just roll your eyes.

                “It’s just Sadie,” you tell him.

                “You don’t know how long she’s been locked in there for,” Kylo says quietly. “You have no idea what he’s been doing to her.”

                “It’s Sadie,” you tell him. “She’s fine. She can hold her own.” But suddenly you’re not so sure. You turn and push the door open and step inside the room, letting the door close quietly behind you. You walk down a short tiled hallway into a large room. A very large room. “Holy shit,” you whisper as you take in the expansive area around you. You had thought that Kylo’s furnishings were nice, but this was on another level.

                The room had to be at least two stories high. The walls were white, the tiles were white, and large windows stretched the expanse of the room, showing off an exquisite view of the snowy mountain peaks outside. There was a large purple rug in the middle of the floor, where white couches with purple cushions were rearranged neatly around it. A mirror stretched along one side of the wall, complete with ornate gilded trim, and you couldn’t help but catch your reflection in the clean glass. Man, what did Kylo see in you? Your hair was under control, but your clothes suddenly looked two sizes too big. Even your eyes were darker and had an almost sunken look to them. And had your cheek bones always been this apparent? Yes, Kylo Ren had a mirror in his bathroom, but you refused to look at yourself in it, and now you understood why. Another day or two in that cell, and Hux probably really would have fucking killed you.

                How many times had you almost been killed here? How many times had you gotten close to _almost_ dying? Honestly, the number was probably so high you couldn’t count it on two hands, and if that really was the case, you didn’t really want to give it any more thought, especially when it could be better focused on other things, like how in the living fuck Hux could get a room like this. When you saw Kylo’s dwellings, it looked like the design had been lifted from a luxury home furnishings magazine. But this? Sure, he may have been the top dog on the Starkiller Base, but he was also apparently compensating for something with a room like this. Why did he even need all these expensive, fancy furnishings on a military installation of all places? How much did all of this cost? Did they hire interior decorators for just the elite staff and then dismiss them while they built the rest of the ship? Did Phasma have rooms as nice as this, or did-?

                Suddenly, someone jumps out at you from behind, and you immediately duck down and flip them over your right shoulder, mentally thanking both Ladson and Kylo for sparring with you so often. Apparently, sparring really could save your life. You look down at your attacker with a mixture of pity and distrust.  

                Your assailant just lies on the tile floor like they don’t have the energy to move. Such dramatics; you hadn’t thrown them _that_ hard. “Really, Sadie, that was so unnecessary.” Sadie doesn’t move. She just lies there, almost lifeless, on the floor while you stare down at her. “Seriously, will you talk to me? I don’t have a lot of time here.”

                Sadie just lies there, and you’re not quite sure what to do. In one swift motion, you drop down to the floor in front of her. “Sadie, talk to me. Aren’t you relieved to see that I’m not dead?”

                “B’s dead,” Sadie murmurs, and you have to look away from her. It wasn’t so much knowing Kylo did it as knowing that she was there to _watch_ Kylo do it. You couldn’t imagine what that must have been like, nor did you really want to.

                “I know,” you say softly. “Taro’s dead too.”

                “Good.” There is a resounding smack as you hit her arm, much harder than you should have. There is anger coursing through you now, both due to her circumstances and her flip attitude towards Taro. If you had been standing, you might have kicked her. “Better control that temper,” Sadie sneers. You’ve never heard that tone from her before. “Or you’re going to end up just like your boyfriend.”

                “He’s not my-” You quickly stop yourself. This is not the conversation you need to be having. “We’re here to help you escape. I came by to help work out a plan and then he’s going to help get you out of here.”

                “Oh, is that what you’re going to do?” Sadie asks, rolling over to look at you. You suddenly see that the side of her face closest to the floor is bruised, a purple ring that surrounds her eye and radiates outwards. It suddenly occurs to you that there are probably more bruises in places you can’t see. You close your eyes, trying to push the mental image away, while she keeps talking. “Did the guilt finally get the better of you?”

                “Guilt?” Your eyes fly open as you look down at her. “What guilt? I didn’t do this. B and C set this whole thing up, and now they’re dead. I’m a prisoner here, just like you.”

                “Prisoner?” she scoffs. “Yeah, I’m so sure.” She shakes her head. “You remember when we had that fight? The very last time I spoke to you? Ren came to my room a few days after that.” You can’t meet her eyes. You knew what was coming, but there was nothing you could say. “He knocked on the door and I, I don’t know why I opened it, and he was standing there. I tried to close the door on him but he lifted me into the air with his hand, not with his fist just, with his hand, without touching me, and then he came over-” She shakes her head violently from side to side. “The pain was so intense I blacked out. I woke up in that cell with you and everyone else-”

                “Sadie,” you say quietly.

                “They took you away,” she murmurs. “I thought you were dead. And then they brought us all into a big room and questioned us, well, not C, he couldn’t get up so they just left him there. We didn’t know where you were. We thought Ren had gotten mad and killed you. B was raving mad, cursing Ren out, refusing to tell him anything. He was saying something about how he should never have left you with a monster like Ren when he took his lightsaber and-” Sadie closes her eyes. “I think I fainted after that. When I woke up, Ren was gone. I heard Shayne and Ladson screaming and yelling as they were being dragged off, and I was left alone with General Hux.”

                “Sadie,” you repeat, silently begging her to stop.  

                “He said it wasn’t fair.” Sadie’s voice is shaking with emotion, but she continues. “He said it wasn’t fair that _Ren_ got to keep a pet, and that’s when I realized you were still alive. And he, he made me a deal. My life in exchange for-” She pulls the hem of her shirt aside, revealing her neck. “-this.”

                “Holy fuck.” You can’t hide the horror in your voice as you see what looks like indentations from a collar embedded in her neck. “What is that sick fuck doing to you?”

                “Do you feel guilty?” Sadie asks. “Hux told me all about it. He told me all about how Ren bragged about your loyalties to him, how you would betray your own sister for him.”

                “That’s not what happened,” you say quietly. “Kylo only said that shit to try to keep me alive. I didn’t know you knew anything.”

                “Yes you did,” Sadie sniffs. “Remember? You knew there was something I wasn’t telling you so you sent Ren to get it out of me. Do you know how painful-?”

                “I do,” you say firmly. “You know I do. He’s been in my head more than once. I know how much it hurts.”

                “Maybe,” Sadie says, like she doesn’t really believe you.

                “Look, none of that matters right now,” you say quickly, trying to focus on the task at hand. “Kylo is going to help break you out of here. We’re going to send you back home, okay?”

                “Just me?” Sadie asks skeptically.

                “You’re first,” you tell her. “Shayne and Ladson are still around here somewhere.”

                “Guilt.” She shakes her head. “There’s no other reason for you to play at being the big hero trying to save everyone.”

                “I’m not trying to be a hero,” you tell her, trying to be as patient with her as you possibly can. “But I’m in the best position to help the others right now.”

                “Are you?” Sadie asks, rolling over to really look at you. “You look as bad as I do, minus the bruises. Hux told me what Ren did to you.”

                “Did to-?”

                “How he locked you up?” Sadie asks. “Threw you in that cell? Almost starved you to death? He warned me that he would do the same thing to me if I decided to be…uncooperative.”

                “That wasn’t Kylo,” you whisper harshly. “That was Hux. Hux fed me the same bullshit, trying to turn me against Kylo, but that wasn’t true. Kylo was away all week. He only found out that I was gone when he came back, and he rescued me _immediately._ ”

                “Well, isn’t that convenient timing,” Sadie mutters. For a moment, your armor cracks, just a little bit, but you don’t give in. “Hux has told me all about Ren. He told me all about the terrible things that he’s done. Did you know that when he was only-”

                “I don’t want to hear it,” you say quickly. Sadie catches your eye, and you look away. “-not again. Kylo told me once, and I just, I don’t want to hear it again.”

                “You’re such a terrible liar,” Sadie says. “Really? After all this time, you’re really still such a bad liar?”

                “I’m not as good as you, but I’m good enough to stay alive,” you say quickly. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time here, but Kylo-”

                “Do you really believe that?” Sadie asks. “Do you really believe that Ren is going to just break me out of here out of the goodness of his heart?”

                “No, he’s doing it for me,” you tell her. She looks at you skeptically. “Seriously, he cares about me. He-” You shake your head. “Remember what you told me? Evil people can still be tempted by love.”

                “No, evil people can be tempted by power,” Sadie tells you. “Evil people can be tempted by control. Not love. Love has nothing to do with it. People like Hux and Ren don’t feel love.” She narrows her eyes at you. “People like _you_ can’t feel love. Not when you’d betray your friends.”

                “You know, that would have been a lot more effective if you had just left it with Hux and Ren,” you tell her, using humor to deflect how much that stings. “Listen, I’m going to get you out of here. Give me to the end of the week at the latest, okay? If Ren- if _Kylo_ hasn’t come through for you by then, I’ll break you out of here myself, Hux be damned.”

                “Sure,” Sadie mutters under her breath. “You do that.”

                “Have you seen Ladson though?” you ask her. “Shayne? Have you seen anyone?”

                “No,” Sadie says bitterly. “No, I haven’t left this apartment.”

                “Yeah, I know what that’s like,” you tell her quickly. “I’m locked in Kylo Ren’s room around the clock too.”

                Sadie looks up at you, perhaps sensing the truth in your tone. “Does he- does he hit you?”

                You look her in the eye. You want to make a joke that sometimes he hits you when he spars with you, or sometimes he’ll fuck you so roughly it hurts because he doesn’t realize his own strength, but you can’t. “No,” you say softly. You couldn’t imagine Kylo hitting you the way Hux probably hit her, his fist pulled back before it made contact with her face to leave that nasty welt by her eye. Yes, Kylo had choked you, but that seemed like years ago, and besides, the circumstances behind that had seemed totally different. Or had they? Were you and Sadie really in two different situations?

                It didn't take you more than a second to decide that Sadie definitely had it worse. Kylo wouldn’t hurt you like this. Kylo wasn’t exactly a good guy, you knew that, but at the same time, neither were you. But that didn’t matter. Bad people were still capable of good deeds. Bad people could still help people.

                “Look, it doesn’t matter,” you whisper harshly. “Because pretty soon it’s not going to matter. No one’s going to be hitting you. You’re going to be on a ship heading back home to your father soon, I promise you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

                She looks up at you, and the tears start to slip down her cheeks one at a time. When she speaks next, her voice is full of desperation. “Please help me.”

                You grab her and pull her into a hug, burying your face in her shoulder. She hugs you back fiercely, her fingertips digging into your back, but you don’t care. “I’m going to get you out of here,” you tell her softly.

                “What are you doing for this?” she asks. You try to pull away, but she holds you close. “What is Ren making you do for this?”

                “Nothing,” you tell her softly. “Seriously, nothing, aside from never trying to escape which, let’s be honest, wouldn’t work out so well for me anyway.”

                She hesitates as she back away from you. “He has to want something out of this.”

                “You want something?” you ask her. “Revenge. Hux is an asshole. He almost killed me, and Kylo’s taking that very personally.” You try to crack a smile, but it comes out all wrong, like you’re trying too hard. “He cares about me. He’ll keep me safe. And I can use that to help the others get home.”

                “And once they’re home?” Sadie asks. “Then what will you do?”

                You shrug softly and look down at the floor. “Then I’ll stay,” you tell her. “I gave him my word.” She tries to grab you again, but you hold her at arm’s length. “No, this is okay. It’s not too bad here. Kylo is decent to me, and Phasma’s-” You roll your shoulders and let them drop. “-she’s like a friend to me. I may make other friends here too. And if I stay on my best behavior, Kylo may let me out. I can’t be an interpreter here, but maybe I can do something else worthwhile.”

                “Hux hates you,” Sadie tells you. “He sees you as an extension of Ren, or worse, he’s afraid that Ren is going to craft you into a tool to use against him.”

                “Hux can’t hurt me,” you tell her, more to assuage her fears than anything else. “And Kylo isn’t using me for anything. A person like Hux can’t understand him. Hux only sees things in black and white, right? He only deals in absolutes? Kylo isn’t like that. He sees the worlds in shades of grey, and that scares Hux, because it makes him unpredictable, makes it hard for him to know what Kylo will do next.”

                “What if he finds out?” Sadie asks quietly. “What if he finds out what you’re planning?”

                “He’s not going to,” you tell her. “Remember, only Kylo can read your thoughts and he’s in on the plan. And Phasma might be too, maybe. I’m not sure. But the point is you’ve got me and you’ve got Kylo, the most powerful person on board at your side.”

                Sadie shakes her head like she’s still not sure. “Hey, he’s not going to find out, okay?” you tell her. “Think about it. Why would Kylo care about you? He doesn’t even really know you. He didn’t even know you were here until Taro told me. Hux will never see it coming.”

                “He’ll see it coming after I’m gone,” she says softly. “And then he’s going to try to take it out on you.”

                “Kylo will protect me,” you tell her, although you wish you could have had more faith in that statement. “And Kylo’s probably going to make it look like you escaped on your own, and that way it can’t be traced back to either of us. Hux can suspect all he wants, but he can’t confirm anything.”

                You think you hear a door shut from somewhere in the distance and quickly get to your feet. “I need to go. Just take care of yourself, okay, Sadie? By the end of the week, you’ll be headed home. I promise. Kylo won’t make me a liar.”

                “Don’t leave me,” Sadie whispers, grabbing onto your leg.

                “Sadie.” You bend down and kiss her forehead gently. “Be strong, okay? I need you to be strong. Just for one more week. You’ve been doing so, so well so far. Just don’t let Hux suspect anything and you’ll be home in a few days, okay?” Sadie nods her head rapidly. “I don’t know when we’ll see each other again, but I love you, okay? Remember that. And take care of yourself.” You suddenly feel like there’s so much more you want to say to her, but there isn’t time. You don’t know when you’ll see her again. You may never see her again.

                “I love you too,” Sadie whispers, holding back tears as she releases your leg. You’re about to walk away when Sadie calls your name again. “LN-2829.”

                “LN-2829?” you repeat blankly, spinning around to face her.

                “I overheard part of a conversation Hux was having about a difficult-” Sadie shakes her head. “I didn’t think anything of it at first, but LN? Could it be Ladson? The first and last letter of his first name?”

                “See, I always knew you were the smart one.” You wink at her. “Thanks for the lead.” You give a little wave and quickly head out the door.

                Kylo’s not there, but the Storm Trooper that had been guarding the door before is. You take a deep breath and try to make yourself seem as tall as possible. “Don’t tell anyone we were here,” you tell him. “Especially not Hux. If you do, Kylo Ren-”

                “You think Hux talks to me?” the Storm Trooper asks. He has a pretty strong accent, but you can’t place it. “You think he stops by and says, _hey, how was your day?_ You think he stops to make idle chit-chat and asks if anything exciting happened today? You think-”

                “Point taken,” you say quickly, then, trying to be friendly, “Did anything exciting happen today?”

                “Yeah I took a piss,” he snaps. “Now get the fuck back to Ren’s room before I have to escort you there myself.”

                Your fingers snap to your forehead as you salute him. “At ease, soldier.” With that, you quickly turn around and scamper back towards Kylo’s room. Except you get lost twice, and the more you walk, the more the image of Sadie’s face and the purple bruise over your eye clouds your vision. What if Hux found out that you were planning to help her escape? What would he do to her? You can imagine him standing over her, his hand pulled into a fist at his side. You picture Sadie’s head flying back from the force of impact, and you can practically hear the bones in her face crack as-

                _Here._ You quickly stride past the Storm Trooper guarding your door as you enter the living room. Kylo’s not there, you can sense it more than feel it, and you quickly sit down on the couch, drawing your knees into your chest as you gasp, raking air in and out of your lungs. But you can’t breathe fast enough, you feel like you’re not getting any oxygen, and your fingertips are digging into your skull as images flash through your mind. Sadie’s face, the bruise, the indentations of what looked like a fucking _collar_ around her neck-

                It makes you angry enough that you feel like you can scream, and you do, pouring your rage into an angry cry of contempt and disgust at the whole damn situation and how powerless you were to really do anything about it. If it was up to you, you would have dragged Sadie to the hangar right now and held a blaster to someone’s neck until they agreed to fly her home safely. But no, you were going to play this game by Kylo’s rules, and _wait_. Wait? Hadn’t Sadie already done enough waiting? Sure, you hadn’t known that she had still been on base, but now that you did, every moment was precious. Every moment she spent with that monster was another minute that you should have been able to prevent and-

                You look up to see the Storm Trooper that had been guarding your door standing awkwardly in front of you, like he wasn’t quite sure if you were in pain or agony or what. Without even thinking, you hold your hand out like Kylo does when he is about to Force Choke someone, and the Storm Trooper almost slips and falls on his face in his desperate hurry to leave the room. You sigh and close your eyes. Maybe it was better if you _didn’t_ have as much power as Kylo did with the Force. Yes, it would help you save Sadie, but you were also too emotionally volatile right now, and how many innocent Troopers would you have killed in the process of trying to get her out of here?

                Suddenly something from one of your interpreting sessions jumps out at you from the depths of your mind. You remember how most of the Troopers who patrolled the base or were assigned to menial tasks were the ones who had been seriously injured or declared unfit for battle, which is why they were running around the base here instead of going out on missions or other combat assignments. You wondered if they liked it here any better than you did, or if this was the only life they had ever known, working for the First Order. Maybe they were prisoners here as much as you were, but without knowing quite where to go, they decided to just do the best they could to stay and make the most of it. It would certainly explain that one guard’s reaction to you: he didn’t want to be here, and yet, where was he going to go?

                You could always go home with Sadie, you knew that, but you didn’t really want to do that either. Too much had happened. What were you supposed to do, just go back to school? Pretend that none of this ever happened? It didn’t even matter. It wasn’t worth thinking about. You weren’t going anywhere, not with Ladson and Shayne still on base. And now at least you had a clue to help find Ladson, but you knew he could take care of himself, at least for a few days. If you told Kylo you had a new plan to try to save Ladson, he might give up on Sadie altogether. No, you had to be smart about this. You had to be clever.

                That evening, you thanked the Storm Trooper who brought you food, being as polite and as courteous as possible, but you couldn’t help but notice that he still scampered out of the room like a dog with its tail between its legs. He probably didn’t know that you couldn’t hurt him, which then begged the question: what did people on the base know about you? Some of them probably recognized you as the interpreter, but others had seen you walk through the base with Kylo Ren earlier today. People would talk, but what would they say? Would they say that Kylo Ren was teaching you to use the Force too? That you were his new understudy? That one day you were going to be as powerful as he was?

                Hux certainly seemed to think so, at least, if he told Sadie that he feared Kylo was crafting you into some sort of tool. Maybe tool had been the wrong word. Weapon, perhaps? Maybe Kylo and whoever this Supreme Leader character he answered to made decisions independently of Hux. He had an ego, all powerful people did, and it probably killed him not to be included in these secret meetings about you, although he was hardly alone in that. If Kylo and some mysterious powerful entity were making decisions regarding your future, you would have very much liked to be in on them.

                You lay on the couch in the living room and waited for Kylo to come back. And waited. And waited. What was he doing? Where was he? Was he off on First Order business? Was he trying to rescue Sadie right now? You groaned and flopped over on the couch, throwing your legs over the back in a variety of restless positions. The waiting was terrible. You hated waiting, absolutely hated it. Hux could be out there right now _abusing_ her, tormenting her, and you were just lying on a couch like a dog waiting for its master to return. You couldn’t take it. You had to go back there right now and rescue her.

                You sat up, bouncing on the heels of your feet, staring at the door in front of you and willing it to open. You would. You would go out there and rescue Sadie. Right now. You would knock out one of the guards. Steal his blaster. Drag his body into the room, get Sadie dressed in his armor, and walk with her down towards the hangar. People had already seen you walk around with Kylo Ren and so they would be less suspicious of your whereabouts, especially if they saw you walking with another Storm Trooper. At that point it was just a matter of finding someone who knew how to fly something that wouldn’t draw too much suspicion and getting Sadie into it. From there, you could just give her the blaster, and let her escape.

                There was only one problem with that. Actually, there were multiple problems. What if you weren’t strong enough to knock out the Storm Trooper? What if you went into Hux’s room and he was actually there with her? Would he be able to take you in a fight? Or would he have more reinforcements with him? And what if you were caught trying to escape? Well, _you_ weren’t exactly trying to escape, but it would certainly look that way. And then Kylo would probably have no choice but to throw you back in that cell to make an example of you. And what about Sadie? Hux would either torture her worse or he would just straight up kill her.

                So, what then? You just had to sit here and let Kylo perform this whole rescue mission by himself? It would actually be a lot easier for him. He could literally pick her up, throw her over his shoulder, carry her down to the hangar and tell someone to drop her off on her home planet and no one would ask any questions. But why? Was it because of where he stood in the First Order? You knew he was technically outside its official hierarchy, but when he gave orders, people listened. Or was that just because they were wary of his temper? Perhaps they were wary of his power and the fact that they were insignificant enough that he could kill them without any real repercussions?

                No, it wasn’t fair. You wanted power too. You didn’t want to be small and insignificant. Your friends were in danger. You wanted to help them. For a moment you feel overwhelmed, like you’re about to cry, before you realize what this sensation is. Anger. Rage. Hux could be striking her right now, but she was too weak to defend herself. And you were too weak to do anything about it. 

                You get to your feet, your actions quick and methodical. You act, you don’t think. You grab one of the wooden chairs pushed up against the wall next to the bookcase and lift it above your head. It’s heavy, but you don’t care as you throw it against the wall.

                It hits it with a deafening crash, but just topples to the floor without doing any real damage. You pause for a moment, breathing heavily, but the Storm Trooper does not come in. _Good._ As if in a trance, you walk over to it and grab the back of the chair, swinging it against the wall as hard as you can. One of the legs cracks on impact, and that’s _good._ You _like_ that as you lean back and hit it again, smashing the chair against the wall over and over again. You can feel small splits of wood thinner than toothpicks scratch against your face as you slam the chair into the wall over and over again, letting all sorts of barbaric noises and grunts escape from your throat as you take out your frustration through the slow destruction of everything around you, by anything unfortunate enough to get in your way when you were angry. It didn’t even occur to you who that reminded you of.

                The chair is in pieces on the floor now, and you grab one of the legs that is still mercifully unbroken and free it from the chair, slamming it against the wall like a bat. “I need to learn the Force,” you say through gritted teeth. “I need to get as powerful as Kylo Ren and then no one will hurt me or anyone I care about ever again.” The chair leg is now just a stick in your hand and you take it and smash it up against the wall lengthwise with both hands, trying to smash it flat. But it just cracks and splinters in your hands, and you look down to see small brown wooden shards sticking out of your palms and fingers.

                You scream again, no, you screech, as you slam both hands against the wall. A sharp jolt of pain cuts through you, and that’s when the tears start. “It should be me,” you say as you slide down the wall. “It should be me, not Sadie.”

                Slowly, your mind starts to come back to yourself. You need to clean yourself up. You need to clean the pieces of the chair up. You had to look as in control as possible if you wanted Kylo to teach you the ways of the Force. You were going to need it to save Sadie. And Shayne. And Ladson. And, most importantly, you were going to need it if you were going to save yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There was no doubt now in Ender's mind. There was no help for him. Whatever he faced, now and forever, no one would save him from it. Peter might be scum, but Peter had been right, always right; the power to cause pain is the only power that matters, the power to kill and destroy, because if you can't kill then you are always subject to those who can, and nothing and no one will ever save you."  
> –Orson Scott Card, Ender’s Game, Chapter 12


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Explicit graphic depiction of sexual slavery between two secondary characters that may make some readers uncomfortable. If this is you, just stop reading once you get to the line and call it a day. I'll see you tomorrow. ;) For everyone else, the bus for hell leaves in about twenty minutes. I'll save you a seat.

                It should have horrified you how quickly you had calmed down after your outburst, but then again, nothing seemed to be able to perturb you anymore. You bent down and collected every scrap of wood and threw it in a bin, presenting it to the Storm Trooper outside. “Take this somewhere and dispose of it,” you ordered. “The chair broke. Kylo Ren will not hear of this, or I’ll tell him you were the one that broke it.”

                He looked down at the chair, broken into multiple pieces in the bin, and then looked back at you. “Yes, m’am, right away, m’am.” He took the bin and scurried off as quickly as his legs would carry him, probably making sure that he was back before Kylo Ren saw that he wasn't at his post. You just watched him go, lips pursed in apathetic amusement. With no one stopping you, you could have easily walked off, but where would you go? Back to Sadie? There was always the possibility that Hux was there, and besides, Kylo would not be happy if he arrived back to see that you were missing and the door, unguarded.

                So you went back inside and took a shower, carefully picking little splinters out of your palms and fingers. It wasn’t really painful, just annoying, and you hoped that Kylo wouldn’t notice the little cuts on your hands when he came back. You could always blame your injuries on sparring, or working out. If Kylo couldn’t get into your head, it didn’t really matter what you told him, so long as you fixed your face to make it look like you believed your own lie. Kylo had an uncanny knack for reading you, wall in your head or not, and you had to be on your guard at all times to make sure not to draw his suspicion.

                Then again, you could at least afford to be a little upset, a little angry. After all, you had seen what had happened to Sadie. You had seen the purple bruise around her eye, the indent of a collar around her neck. It would raise his suspicions if you _weren’t_ angry, but you had to be careful how much you revealed to him. It made sense for you to be angry, that was fine. Vengeful? Sure. But if he knew that your ire was bordering on wrath, then he might have second thoughts about training you in the Force. This was a delicate situation, and you had to play it carefully.

                After your shower, you lay down on the bed. Destroying the chair had actually made you feel a little bit better, or at the very least it had tuckered you out. Combined with the hot steam from the shower, it made you downright sleepy. You couldn’t wait for Kylo any longer. You could only hope that he was so late because he had gone to rescue Sadie. Content with that explanation, you close your eyes and let yourself drift off to sleep.

                You hadn’t been sleeping long when the sound of Kylo getting into bed beside you startled you awake. “Hey,” you murmured sleepily, rubbing sleep out of your eyes with one hand. “You’re back late.”

                “I had matters to attend to,” Kylo says slowly, as if he’s choosing his words carefully.

                “Sadie?” you ask hopefully.

                “No,” he replies, and you mope into the pillow, crestfallen. “How is she?”

                “Bad,” you reply simply, letting a fair amount of mope into your voice. “Hux is a monster.” He just brushes your hair back with one hand and doesn’t say anything. “You have no idea what he’s doing to her. He’s torturing her. He could be torturing her _right now_. We need to get her out of there.”

                “Soon,” he responds, and he pauses a moment as he rolls over onto his back and settles into a more comfortable position. “I’m going away at the end of the week.”

                You can’t suppress the whine in your throat as you move closer to him, resting your hand on his chest. “Away? For how long?”

                He turns to you and smirks, as if he had been waiting to see you pout at the news of his departure. “Just for a few days.”

                “So will there be time?” you ask him cautiously. “To rescue Sadie right before you go?” He bows his head in a quick nod, and you let yourself grin.

                “But it means you’re going to be on your own here for a few days,” he warns.

                “I’ll be all right,” you say softly, sensing an opportunity. “But maybe, you know, just in case, you could teach me something? Like, how to use the Force?” He raises an eyebrow. “You know, just in case I’d ever need to use it.”

                “Hmm,” he says, and you hold your breath, waiting for his answer. “I’ll consider it.”

                Your face twitches, but you try your best to conceal it and only feign minor annoyance. He said he would consider it. That wasn’t a no, and yet…

                “I sense a great deal of anger in you,” Kylo says softly, locking his eyes with yours. You breathe out slowly, trying your best to sound calm.

                “Just upset,” you say simply. “I mean, my mentors used me as bait, my friends are missing and in danger, my best friend was just killed by a man who left me to rot in a cell for a week and is now abusing a girl that’s like a sister to me.” You roll your shoulders. “And, I mean, I’m technically a prisoner here. I’m locked in here all day and night. So maybe I’m angry, but I think I have good reason to be.”

                “If you’re too angry, I won’t be able to teach you anything,” he says. “Not if you’re too unfocused.”

                “I’m focused,” you tell him. “I’m plenty focused. I can do this.”

                He turns on his side, facing you. “If you really want to learn, then show me how focused you are. Let me see your thoughts again.”

                You bite your lip in hesitation. “But Taro put up the wall, he-”

                “And he’s not around anymore,” Kylo says softly, his eyes alight with good humor. “Which means the only person that’s keeping up your shield is you.”

                You puzzle this over for a moment. He had a point. Before, Taro and the others had helped you keep the wall up, but now there weren’t any Tortutaru left on base. If Kylo couldn’t get into your mind, it was because you were keeping him out. “But if I knock the wall down, I won’t be able to get it back up,” you say softly. “I mean, at least, I don’t think so. I’m not strong enough for that.”

                “Is there anything you have to hide from me?” he asks. He looks like he’s enjoying this conversation way more than he should. Did he really want to get into your mind that badly?

                Actually, there was something that happened very recently that you wanted to hide from him, but you weren’t about to let him know that. “Not a thing,” you tell him. “I’m an open book.” You find his hand and guide his fingertips to your temple. “Try me.”

                You close your eyes and the familiar mental push comes, but it’s not that strong. Nor does it really need to be. You try to picture the room that you were in before, but it doesn’t even look like a room anymore. There aren’t any walls. It’s just dark, all around you, as black as the darkness on Kylo’s side of the wall. Were you as dark as him now? Was that what had happened? Had Kylo’s darkness consumed your light? You feel a thundering in front of you, and put your hand out to touch solid…nothing. There was a wall there, of some kind, but you couldn’t see it. Before, the wall had been clearly made out of brick stones, but this? It was smooth, but almost invisible to the eye, as if it was made out of clari-crystalline or transparisteel. You hoped it was made out of at least transparisteel; if it was made out of clari-crystalline, all it would take was one sharp tap to break it into a thousand…

                …pieces. Suddenly, a flash of colors and sounds rush through your mind, and you know he’s broken through the flimsy barrier in your head. _Damn._ Focused on trying to at least avoid the incident with the chair, you flip your mind back towards Sadie. It wasn’t that hard to do, given how easy it was to hop back to emotionally charged events. You play back the memory as slowly as you can, from walking through Hux’s luxurious quarters to Sadie lashing out at you from behind. As the memory unfolds, you dare to open your eyes. Kylo’s eyes are closed too, but his face looks relaxed, almost like it does when he’s sleeping.

                Struck by a sudden idea, you move your hand against his temple. He twitches, but continues looking through your thoughts. It didn’t hurt as much as it usually did, or rather, maybe you were just starting to get used to the pain. Maybe it hurt less if you were willingly giving him access to your thoughts? You weren’t quite sure. Either way, you press your fingertips into his temple and close your eyes. If the connection was already open, could it work both ways? If he could see your thoughts, could you see his?

                Confusion. Suddenly your mind seemed racked by confusion, but it felt detached, far away, and it took you a moment to realize that you were feeling _his_ confusion, as if it was your own. You pushed with your mind a little further, and realized that you were still seeing your memories of Sadie, but it almost felt like you were watching them through a screen. That was when you realized you were watching _him_ watch your memories. The strangeness of it all almost made you pull away, but you dared to push yourself deeper, trying to open your mind, waiting for any emotion to-

                -jealousy? You felt something hot and burning and uncomfortable stir in your chest, the muscles in your upper arms twitching unpleasantly. You have to focus extra hard to see exactly what he’s seeing in your own head, and eventually you can see yourself embracing Sadie. _No one’s going to be hitting you. You’re going to be on a ship heading back home to your father soon, I promise you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen._

                Looking from the outside in, you could see something else that you couldn’t have seen before, if you weren’t looking at it through his eyes. It was an intimate gesture between two people that clearly loved each other, who clearly cared about each other. You would do anything for Sadie, anything. You would give your life for hers and that was so, so obvious. It was a pure sisterly love, a familial love…had Kylo Ren never really experienced that type of unconditional love and affection? Or was he jealous because he thought you felt stronger emotions for Sadie than you did for him?

                Sure, you showed confidence in him: _Kylo will help get you out of here. Kylo will protect me. Kylo won’t make me a liar_. But at the same time, there was the most damning piece of all. It was such a small slip that you had almost forgotten you had even said it: _He cares about me. He’ll keep me safe. And I can use that to help the others get home._

                Fear coursed through you, and you were sure he felt it. You weren’t using him, but you had sounded so confident when you said it to Sadie that you couldn’t help but wonder how he interpreted your words. But you couldn’t focus on that, there wasn’t time. You tried to spin the conversation off of Sadie to something else, anything else-

                There’s a deafening crash, and for a moment even you’re confused as to what’s going on before you realize that this was the memory that you were intent on him _not_ seeing. You try to push it away and focus back on Sadie, but he’s stronger than you, and his will overpowers your own. You can only watch helplessly as he looks on. You can’t push to read his emotions right now; you’re too unsure of yourself as you literally watch yourself come undone. It doesn’t seem real, watching it through his eyes. It doesn’t seem like something you would have done, and yet, you were the one doing it. Those were your hands, your arms, your grunts of frustration as you picked up one of the chair legs and bashed it into the wall, again and again and again. It was your demanding voice saying your words, although it didn’t sound like you at all. The voice that spoke was rough and dripping with rage.

                _I need to learn the Force. I need to get as powerful as Kylo Ren and then no one will hurt me or anyone I care about ever again._

You almost flinch as you hear yourself say it. It sounded maniacal, unhinged, and to be fair, it sounded stupid. Granted you had been in an emotionally charged state of mind at the time, but even still, it had been you. You were supposed to be in control of your own actions, but this was you, clearly out of control. Could he sense your embarrassment, right this second? It’s heightened by your ear-piercing screech of helplessness that hurts your own ears, and you physically hurl yourself away from him, rolling off the end of the bed.

                It’s enough to break the connection and you’re on your feet in a second, running into the living room. You want to run away, but there is nowhere to go, nowhere you can run to, and so you just jerk open the curtains and look at the dreary, snowy landscape outside. There was nothing else on this planet except for this base and mountains and mountains of snow. You press your forehead into the glass and close your eyes, wishing for a moment that you could be out there instead of in here. You stay that way for a few minutes before you hear Kylo come up behind you. A small part of you figured that he was just going to go to bed and leave you to your thoughts, but if he was out here to confront you, it meant that he cared.

                For whatever reason, you didn’t want him to care.

                “I’m not talking about this,” you say, not looking at him. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t touch you; he just stands there. Was he giving you the silent treatment? What did he want? You can’t see the expression on his face unless you turn around, but for some reason, you’re afraid of what you might see.

                “It’s not like you really used that chair. It’s not like you ever have company over anyway.”

                Silence.

                “You know, Hux almost did kill me. If you hadn’t found me, he would have. It’s not wrong for me to want to be stronger so I can protect myself.”

                Silence.

                “Or Sadie. You saw that collar around her neck. I’m sure you can only imagine what sort of sick shit he’s doing to her.”

                Silence.

                “You know, you don’t need to be jealous of her. I would do anything for her or my friends, but only because they need to be looked after. I mean, I still worry about you, but it’s different. I know you can protect yourself.”

                Silence.

                Then, “You seem to have a great deal of confidence in me.”

                “I do,” you reply, turning around to face him. “I do, because I trust you. You’ve never let me down before, and you’re not going to let Sadie down.”

                “How can you be so sure?” He looks so sad, so unsure, and you know what you want to tell him, but you can’t form the words. It’s not your place to say it first. Instead, you stride forward and put your hands on either side of his face as you pull him close to you, kissing him deeply. He kisses you back, picking you up and pressing your back against the window.

                “Kylo-” You’re suddenly desperate with need as you push your body into his, hands fisting in his hair as you buck your hips against his, urging him on.

                “Tell me how,” he pants against your lips. “Tell me how I can help you.”

                You press yourself into him, kissing him with all the force you can muster while you try to think over what he just said. He wants to help. He knows you’re upset and you’re hurting and you’re angry and he wants to do _something_ , but he's not sure what to do. Of course he doesn’t know how to help you, especially not when he can just barely manage to contain his own anger.

                “This is a good start,” you murmur against his lips, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he picks you up, carrying you into the bedroom. In truth, it was a good start. You needed this closeness, this intimacy, this assurance that he cared about you, because although you knew he did, it helped to be reminded of it. He said so many things with his kisses that he could never say with his words. It was a silent method of communication, and although you had been using your hands to communicate for years, he seemed to express more with his touches than you had ever been able to say.

                Of course, Kylo’s affection and physical intimacy wasn’t enough. You needed to get Sadie home. You needed to find your friends. But, at the same time, there were scars in you that were never going to heal. B had betrayed you, and although it didn’t sting as much as it first did, it festered like an ache deep inside of you. Taro had died, and he had spent his last day on base trying to save you. That last wound was still fresh, and you didn’t know how to describe the grief that you were experiencing. You had never watched one of your friends die before. You had known him for a short time, and yet you still felt like you had known him for years. Was it because he had gotten inside your head? You didn’t know, and honestly, tangling yourself in a web of hypotheticals would probably not help the pain heal any faster.

                And then again, there was also Hux, but fortunately Kylo’s assurances could help with that. Captain Phasma could help with that too, probably. You wanted to talk to her again. You didn’t know quite what you wanted her to say to you, but she had always comforted you when you needed her before. Maybe it was just her presence that was soothing. Kylo had said that she was angry when she discovered what Hux had done to you: maybe she could keep watch outside your door while Kylo was gone? Or at least keep you company? She seemed to be just as strong as Kylo, and sure, she may not have been trained in the Force, but she didn’t have to be. By sure size and physical strength alone, she seemed indomitable, and you needed someone like that on your side.

                Either way, you needed time to heal as well. And you hated that. It sounded like a ridiculous platitude that parents told their children in order to coax them into being patient. You doubted time would help you much. Maybe it would make the sting of B’s betrayal fade, and maybe it would help you deal with Taro’s death, but Hux wasn’t going anywhere. But then again, right now, neither were you. Time wouldn’t solve that problem. Time would only change things. But for the worse? For the better? That part was up to you.

 

                The next three days passed quickly and slowly, all at the same time. You didn’t leave the apartment again, and you didn’t ask about Sadie, although she was in your thoughts almost constantly. You were worried that if you kept asking Kylo about her, he would get frustrated and change his mind and refuse to help her. You couldn’t overestimate how much you could not let that happen. Additionally, a part of you wanted Kylo to rescue Sadie almost of his own volition. He had seen inside your head now. He knew how much she was suffering. Yes, he may have only been rescuing her for you, but it was still a good deed, a bit above and beyond what you would have expected him to do. This wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. It required foresight and planning and _work_ ; it required him to be more than just an innocent bystander in her escape. It didn’t matter if he was doing it for you, or if he was doing it as revenge against Hux; as long as he did it, you knew that it would confirm what a small part of you always believed to be true, that deep down, he still had the potential to do good.

                _Sadie, however, sat in her room, a bit less sure than you were. She knew what Hux had told her about Kylo Ren, and although Hux was probably a liar and a manipulative bastard, she didn’t think he was lying about the transgressions of Kylo Ren. Hux had told her all about how Ren had joined the First Order, about how Ren had been trained by his uncle until he betrayed him and murdered a generation of Jedi students. Sadie didn’t know how old the students had been, but she assumed that they were probably half her age, or less, for Ren to have murdered them all. At first she hadn’t been quite sure why Hux had told her this, or why he constantly told her the awful things Ren had done or continued to do, before she realized that_ you _were stuck with Ren. As awful as the things Hux had been doing to her were, she figured it was nothing compared to what the terrible Kylo Ren was doing to you._

_And that was why she didn’t believe for a second that Ren would actually come save her. He may have had you fooled, but he had betrayed his family. He had ordered the slaughter and destruction of dozens of villages containing innocent people, and had taken innocent lives with his own two hands. She could never trust a person like that, let alone share a bed with him. His reckless thirst for blood and violence was why B and C and the rest of the Tortutaru had put their lives on the line to try to stop him and the First Order. And, truth be told, Sadie probably wouldn’t have cared about it anymore than you had, except for the fact that you both were now prisoners of two of the worst men in the galaxy._

_At least Sadie knew what to expect from Hux. He was vicious and cruel but he was, at least, honest and upfront about it. But when you had come to see her, she noticed that you didn’t have any more bruises or hickeys of any sort, as if Ren had suddenly decided to be gentle with you. And the only reason why a man like Kylo Ren would be gentle is if he wanted you for something, if he wanted to lure you into a false sense of security before lashing out. If he wasn’t abusing you, then he was manipulating you for his own ends, and Sadie wasn’t sure which was worse: the fact that he was doing it, or the fact that you seemed to be falling for it. When you had come to tell her your plan of escape, she too had noticed how confident you seemed. It was clear how much you seemed to trust him. It was as if you were totally blinded by your feelings for him, or perhaps you had simply deluded yourself into believing that Kylo Ren wasn’t as every bit as dangerous or foreboding as Hux._

_Suddenly, Sadie heard the familiar footfalls of Hux’s polished shoes clicking against the tiles as he walked towards her. His steps seemed a little bit faster than usual, and she knew what that meant. She looked up suddenly as_

                the door in front of you opened and Kylo Ren walked through. His shoulders were heaving and he walked straight past you into the room off to your left that you refused to enter. You closed your eyes and held your breath as the familiar sounds of his yelling and the hum of his lightsaber filled your ears. He was

                _angry, although he always seemed angry. It always seemed right there, right beneath the surface, except he seemed more composed and in control about it. Unlike Ren, he didn’t take his fits of anger out where anyone could see him. Sadie closed her eyes as Hux stopped directly in front of her. She heard the slap before she felt it, and knew immediately what that meant. He always struck her whenever he had a_

“Bad day?” you ask as Kylo came out of the room. The lightsaber was safely off now, and you dared to approach him from behind. You unlocked the mechanism on his helmet and pulled it off slowly, resting your head against the back of his shoulder. “What’s wrong? Is it-

                - _Kylo Ren,” Hux fumed as he struck her again. Sadie suppressed a yelp, but couldn’t help the tears that ran down her cheeks. She was so afraid of him, so afraid of_

“Hux,” Kylo fumed. “Again.” You sighed and wrapped your arms around him, hoping that your embrace would at least provide him the smallest of comforts. Kylo was always upset at Hux for one thing or another, although he never quite told you what exactly Hux did to set him off all the time. He was surprisingly

                _vocal when he talked about Kylo Ren. He never held back, talking way more than he should. He prattled on for at least ten minutes, explaining in detail about what Ren had done this time, although Sadie kept silent and focused on the steady throbbing in her temple. She knew she should probably listen more, but Hux probably revealed all sorts of classified First Order information on his little rants, and she didn’t want to be caught knowing more than she should if Kylo Ren happened to read her mind again. It happened once, and she didn’t want to let it happen again. Suddenly, Hux grabbed her by the root of her hair, forcing her to look at him as he_

                pressed his lips into yours. You smiled at Kylo as you pulled away slightly, rubbing the end of your nose with his. He pulled off both of his gloves quickly as he cupped your face with one hand, his palm warm against the cool, tender skin of your cheek as he smoothed down your hair. You reached up and kissed him firmly, grabbing him by the front of his armor and pulling him down, closer to you, teasing his bottom lip gently with your teeth. You could hear him bite back a small groan, and you couldn’t help but grin as you pulled away again. “Better?”

                _“Better,” Hux sighed as Sadie closed her eyes and pushed his length into the back of her throat, moving her lips along the soft skin of his cock. He held her head firmly in each hand as he controlled her movements, keeping a constant rhythm. He pushed himself deep inside the back of her mouth, and it was all she could do to_

hold back a giggle as he threw you backwards on the bed, your legs dangling over the edge as he pounced on top of you, capturing your lips with his. You moaned into his open mouth as his hands trailed the length of your body, planting his hands firmly on your hips as they bucked up into his, desperate for contact. Your shirt had already been yanked off before you even made it into the bedroom, and he brushed his hair out of his face to place wet, sloppy kisses down your neck, down your chest, and you threw your head back and groaned with

                _discomfort as he pulled out of her roughly and pushed her onto her knees, grabbing her long braid with one hand as he thrust into her sensitive entrance without any sort of warning. She had expected her body to have prepared for him by now, but it still hurt each and every time he thrust into her, and she bit her lip to keep from_

crying out as his tongue ran along the curve of your inner thigh, and you shuddered with anticipation beneath him. You could feel his hot breath against your tender clit as he took you in his mouth. He kissed gently at first, slowly warming you up, intermittently using his tongue to keep you wanting. He paused for a moment, placing a gentle kiss at the apex of your inner thigh, as

                _Sadie’s head jerked backwards. Hux was going to snap her neck one of these days with the way he pulled at her braid, forcing her neck back as far as it would go. One of his hands held her firmly around her thin waist, pressing painfully into a bruise that was already weeks old and showed no signs of vanishing, considering the way he continued to use her. At least he was taking her from behind this time. When he took her from the front, he usually used his teeth to torment her, and she could hardly forget the last time that he_

took you in his mouth. It wasn’t something that he did often, but you enjoyed it when he did. No, enjoy was the wrong word. You were stretched out backwards on the bed while he kneeled on the floor in front of you, lips pressed against your entrance as he worshipped you with his mouth, his head bowed in veneration. That’s what it felt like, anyway, as his fingertips traced small circles into your skin as he worked, building you up, making sure you were good and wet before he

                _pulled out of her roughly, yanking on her braid again. Sadie’s head snapped back around as he stuffed his stiff cock back into her mouth and came, his bitter juices rushing into her mouth and down her throat. She grimaced as if she was tasting acid, but Hux paid her expression no mind as he emptied himself inside her mouth, one hand pressed to the back of her head to keep her from pulling away. He_

couldn’t take it anymore and quickly climbed on top of you, nipping playfully at your earlobe. “Ready?”

                “Fuck yes,” you moaned, finding his lips again as he pushed into you. You broke the kiss to run the tip of your nose against the side of his neck, playfully sucking and licking at the sensitive skin there with your tongue. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him inside of you, and considered pushing him over, but no, Kylo liked to be on top, liked to be in control, and you sensed that he liked when you let him, every now and again. He

                _knew that she was nothing more than a prisoner and treated her as such. When he was done with her, he shackled her to the end of the bed, fastening her collar around her neck to make sure she couldn’t go anywhere. She hadn’t cried or pleaded with him, not since that first week, when he had given her a stern beating to remind her never to speak out of turn. She had been quiet since then, a good slave, catering to his every whim silently as he used her to please himself. As she silently curled up on the banquette sofa that he had placed at the end of the bed, he had reminded her to consider herself lucky that she got that much, as Ren’s pet slept on the hard, cold floor like a dog. What he didn’t know was that Kylo Ren_

panted into your ear as he thrust himself inside of you, again and again, taking you over the edge. “Kylo-” You coiled yourself around him, arms wrapped tightly over his broad shoulders as you felt yourself come undone around him. Kylo found his own release a few moments after you did, collapsing with his head against your chest as he spilled himself inside of you. He lay there, taking in deep breaths of air, as he slowly ran a hand absent-mindedly up and down your side. You murmured a sigh of contentment as you ran a hand through his hair, damp with sweat, as you wondered

                _if what Hux said was true. He had lain down on the bed and was instantly asleep, letting the loud, obnoxious sounds of his snores drift through the room. He seemed to be a heavy sleeper, and if she had been free of this collar, Sadie might have gotten a knife from the kitchen and cut his throat while he slept. She supposed that he had also thought of that, which was why she had to wear this stupid collar every night. At first it had bit into her tender flesh, but she had since gotten more or less accustomed to wearing it, and she hated that more than the pain it caused her._

 _She kept hearing the way you had said_ “He’ll take care of me” _in the back of her mind as if that’s what Ren had been doing all along. It seemed unfathomable to believe, but maybe, just maybe, the real reason Hux kept going on and on about how terrible Ren acted was because he was actually treating you decently. It seemed unlikely, but Sadie wondered if Hux was actually jealous of the way_

you cuddled into Kylo’s chest as he wrapped both arms around you, lips resting idly against your forehead as you lay there, drifting in and out of blissful consciousness. “Feeling any better?” you asked, basking in the warmth of his soothing embrace.

                “Mm,” he muttered in his low voice, too lazy and too tired to even form a coherent sentence. You giggled and snuggled further into him, but you were still able to catch his lips as they perked upwards in a shy, sleepy smile. “And you?”

                Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at the question, but you smirked good-naturedly as you thought it over in your head. Of course Kylo cared how you were. He may not have asked you directly as often as you maybe would have liked, but you saw that he cared in the way he would sneak side glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking, studying your expressions, trying to figure out what you were thinking and feeling without even asking.

                “I’m good,” you murmur sleepily. The truth was that you were. Whatever rage that you had felt before was slowly drifting out of you. You were still worried about Sadie, that was always in the back of your mind, but you knew Kylo would save her; it was only a matter of time. No matter what bad things he may have done in the past, you trusted him implicitly. He wasn’t just using you for his own personal gain. You mattered to him, and as long as he treated you well, you didn’t really care about what sorts of things he did off the Starkiller Base.  

                Your hand found his and held it, intertwining your fingers together. He whispered your name in his sleep and his cheek rested against your hair as you cuddled into his chest and let yourself drift off to sleep. For good or for ill, for better or for worse, you were starting to fall in love with him. And you didn’t mind it one bit.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't make it as graphic as I maybe could have, but that was sufficiently uncomfortable to write, and read again, and now I really need to take another shower. xD I considered taking it out, but my editors insisted I leave it in to show the contrast between Sadie/Hux, Kylo/reader, and so I left it alone. Hope you enjoyed it??????
> 
> BUT THE GOOD NEWS IS THAT THIS IS IT MY FRIENDS. If you have hung on this long, this was the lowest of the low, the darkest of the dark, as bad as it's going to get. This is like that roller coaster that you were really excited for, and you're scared because everyone told you it was kind of intense but you're like, "Eh, I can handle it" and at first you're just going over bumps and curves and it's fun but then all of a sudden it drops suddenly and it gets really dark and then you're being smashed around left and right and your brain is being tossed around like a flapjack in your skull and you're like SHIT MAYBE I CAN'T HANDLE THIS and you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your body but you're strapped in and you can't run away and then you can see the station in front of you, a bit in the distance, but you're like, "This is good, this is okay, the worst part is over." The rest of the ride is still fun, but you're no longer worried your head is going to break away from your spine and you're going to have to be pulled off the ride in a stretcher. 
> 
> ......................................yeah!!


	25. Chapter 25

                You had been lying in bed when your eyes suddenly shot open and you rolled over, almost throwing yourself off the end of the bed. You couldn’t be sure what it was at first, but it sounded like someone had just screamed in your head. No, it wasn’t a scream. It sounded almost like the roar of hyper jets, of a ship taking off. Was that what it was? You tried to search through your memory to replay the sound, but you couldn’t trace it now. Had it been part of a dream? A nightmare? Had you really heard anything?

                _Sadie._ You heard her voice in your head, and at first you couldn’t be sure if it was coming from Kylo or if it was a manifestation of the Force inside of you. You closed your eyes and tried to feel her, tried to feel her pain, her anguish, something, but you suddenly found that you couldn’t. Instead, there was just a tingling sensation of numbness when you thought of her name. Over the past few days, you had tried to reach out to her with your mind. She may not have had enough Force ability to actually respond to you, but you had hoped that she could hear you as you tried to comfort her nonetheless.

                But now there was nothing there. You closed your eyes and tried to throw the rope, but it was like throwing it into a big, gaping chasm in your mind.

                Sadie was no longer on base.

                Your eyes shot open and you rushed into the living room. Did that mean he had done it? Had Kylo really saved her? You searched your feelings as you felt elation bubble up inside of you. If you couldn’t feel her anymore, it meant that she wasn’t on base, which could only mean that Kylo had saved her. You feel a happy grin take over your features and you do a little dance around the kitchen, skipping happily around in your bare feet. You would have to confirm it with Kylo when he got back, of course, whenever that was, but she was gone. You were sure of it. She was finally free from Hux once and for all.

                You rush into the bathroom to take a shower, eager to pass the time. You thought about sitting down and reading, but dismissed the thought almost immediately. You were too excited, and the adrenaline made every one of your cells itch with anticipation. Instead, you passed the time with exercise, throwing yourself to the ground in a push-up before jumping up again. It was a strenuous motion and ordinarily you hated it, but you had to do something to ease your twitchy muscles. By the time Kylo did come back, your body was delirious with exhaustion, but your mind was still sharp and alert, waiting anxiously to hear him confirm the good news.

                By the time you heard him come inside, you had been lying on the floor, willing your tired, aching body to get up. But with the sound of his footfalls, you quickly scrambled to your feet on all fours, practically lunging at the doorframe to get to him as fast as possible. He was just removing his gloves and helmet when you stumbled into view, almost tripping over your own feet. “Did you do it?”

                He looks up at you, and the expression on his face is almost sad in a way that you can’t really describe. Ordinarily, you should have been concerned, but your mind was too fixated on other matters to really pay it much attention right now. “Did you do it, Kylo?” He bows his head in a formal nod, and you let your face fall into your hands, grinning like an idiot as you squeal with excitement. “I knew it. I knew you would come through for me.”

                You rush over to him and plant both your hands on his cheeks, covering his face with kisses. “I love you so, so much,” you say before you press your lips to his. It’s only when he doesn’t kiss you back that you let the implication of your words come back to you. “I’m sorry,” you say quickly. You shake your head from side to side, trying to think of something to justify what you had just said. What were you supposed to say? I didn’t mean it? That would only sound worse, and besides, did you really mean it, truly, or had it just slipped out in the excitement of the moment? You honestly couldn’t be sure.

                He just waves his hand as if it’s of no consequence to him and walks into the room off to the left of the living room that you never entered. You watch him go as he shuts the door firmly behind him. You had always thought that that was a room where he took out his rage and frustration, but you didn’t hear any yelling today, nor did you really sense any anger in him. Was he hiding from you in there? You thought back to the expression on his face when you had first entered the room. Had he been caught helping Sadie try to escape? Was he being punished in some way? Did something else happen?

                You suddenly felt extremely guilty, although you weren’t quite sure what you were guilty of. To your knowledge, you hadn’t done anything besides help rescue your friend, although you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if something terrible had happened to him because of it. If it had been up to you, you would have rescued Sadie yourself, and you would have taken the fall for it if you had been caught. You hadn’t really wanted to get Kylo involved with her escape plan anyway, but he was the one who was the most powerful person on board this base, not you, and like it or not, Sadie would never have been able to escape without his help.

                You stand there as the minutes tick by, and you lose track of time before the door finally opens and Kylo steps out. He blinks at you as he sees you standing there, as if he hadn’t expected you to still be waiting. “Are you okay?” you ask softly.

                “Fine,” he responds curtly. He starts taking his armor off without looking at you, and you can’t help but feel your heart twist in your chest.

                “You’re not fine,” you tell him. “Did something happen with Sadie?” You look at him imploringly, but he doesn’t look up at you. “Did something happen to you? Did you get caught?”

                “No,” he responds sullenly, and your heart sinks in your chest.

                “Is it something else then?” you ask. “Did something else happen?” He doesn’t answer you as he struggles out of his boots. “Did, did I do something?” you ask hesitantly as your voice catches in his throat. This finally catches his attention.

                “No,” he says firmly, but doesn’t care to elaborate.

                “Then why are you treating me like I’ve done something wrong?” you ask, letting your emotions spill into your voice. You should probably be careful. You should probably give him some space to come around to you, but he seems sad right now, not vengeful, and you don’t think you have anything to fear from his temper right now. You could be wrong, but you didn’t think so.

                He just waves his hand dismissively as he walks into the bedroom. You follow after him, but he walks into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. In a few minutes you hear the sound of the shower start, and you know better than to follow him in there. Instead, you throw yourself down on the bed, landing painfully on your elbow, but ignore the pulsing ache through your joint as you fume into your pillow. Did it have to do with Sadie? With you? With Hux? With something else on base? Sure, he was always prone to his moods, but lately he had seemed to find comfort in you, even if it was just sulking into your shoulder. At least you could find relief in knowing that he was still confiding in you, in his own way. But if he wouldn’t tell you what was wrong and if he wouldn’t touch you, then what were you supposed to do?

                You couldn’t help but feel like this was your fault, and although you couldn’t quite be sure why, you let yourself accept the blame. You curled up with your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around yourself while tears slipped down your face. You didn’t cry in that ugly way where your face got all red and the insides of your cheeks hurt. Instead, you just let tears gather in your eyes until they blurred your vision, and then rolled down your cheeks in hot, languid streaks. You focused on the steady in and out of your breathing to try to keep yourself calm, and you didn’t even notice when the water turned off in the shower. In fact, you were so caught up in yourself that you didn’t even notice that Kylo was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, watching you intently.

                He walks over to you and brushes your hair out of your face, and you, like a petulant child, continue to pout, crossing your arms over your chest as you refuse to look at him. But as he bends down to kiss your forehead, you wrap your arms around his neck and refuse to let go, pulling him down towards you. He accepts this and rolls over on top of you, propping himself up on one arm so as not to crush you under his massive frame. Neither of you say anything for quite a few minutes. Instead, you just stare up at him through red-rimmed eyes as he brushes your hair out of your face.

                “Why won’t you tell me what happened?” you ask, not daring your voice to go above a whisper.

                “It’s not important,” he says softly. “It’s not something I want to trouble you with.”

                “But you can tell me,” you insist. “Nothing you say is going to change my opinion of you.” He lets out a dry, sad laugh as he rolls away from you, rolling onto his back as he stares up at the ceiling. You give him his space, afraid to push him too much.

                “I love you,” you venture again after a little while, refusing to apologize for your feelings.

                He just shakes his head. “No you don’t.”

                “Then try me.” You take his hand and drag it to your temple, but he pulls his hand away. “If you think I’m bluffing then look for yourself.”

                He just shakes his head, and you give him time to respond. “You shouldn’t.”

                “Because of the awful things you’ve done?” you ask. “Sadie told me about them, and I don’t care.”

                “No, she didn’t,” Kylo replies, and you sigh. That’s right, he had seen those memories. Sadie insinuated that he had done terrible things, but had failed to provide you with any specifics. It wasn’t like you had really cared to hear them then either.

                “It doesn’t matter,” you tell him. “Because it has nothing to do with me. You’re a different person out there than you are in here with me.”

                “Am I?” he asks, rolling over to meet your eyes. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you. He’s looking at you like he expects you to provide some deep psychoanalysis on his character, but you can’t. He knows you can’t. You had never seen him interact with anyone else. You had seen people scurry away in fear of him, but you had never seen him have a pleasant one on one interaction with anyone besides you.

                You don’t tell him he’s a good person. You know on some level he would just resent you for saying it, but you don’t want to tell him he’s a bad person either, not after he had just helped you rescue Sadie. You decide to go with the truth, as always.

                “I don’t care what you are,” you say at length. “I really don’t. I don’t care how many people you’ve killed. It has nothing to do with me. It may be selfish of me, but I don’t care. I like the way you kiss me, and touch me, and fuck me, and I don’t want that to stop. I don’t care if that makes me a bad person. All I know is I feel a little bit, I don’t know, _better_ , when you’re here, and no, it’s not just because you’re the only person I see all day, because it was like that when I was interpreting too. You’ve seen inside my head. I liked working with Taro and then going back and seeing my friends. You’ve seen it; you’ve seen how I used to wait up anxiously for you to come visit me. And don’t say that you’re a bad influence on me because I’m adult enough to make my own decisions. I could have escaped here with Taro, easily, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay here with you, because while you find comfort in me, I find comfort in you too. And that may be massively, massively fucked up, but I don’t care. I’m not going to apologize for it, and I’m not going to apologize for how I feel about you. I’m not asking you to love me back. I’m not asking you to change. I’m not even asking for you to stop killing people. I’m just asking you to-”

                You bite your lip. _Shit. Where was I going with this?_

                But it didn’t matter, because at that moment, Kylo Ren grabbed you and pulled you on top of him, pressing your lips to his. You closed your eyes and relaxed into him as his arms closed over your body, pressing you tightly into him, as he attacked your lips with fervent, hungry kisses. You decided that this was good, this was okay, this was what you wanted, and mentally gave yourself the slightest pat on the back for again having the power to strike one of his nerves by saying exactly what he wanted to hear. Except this time, it wasn’t all bullshit. You couldn’t feel bad about Kylo killing someone that you had never met before, and that may have made you a bad person, or maybe just an emotionally detached person, but that hardly mattered to you. You had been through enough, and you weren’t going to bother tormenting yourself with the morality of wanting what you wanted.

                “I’m not going to change,” he says as he pulls away slightly, and you can read between his words. He’s not going to change. He’s not going to stop killing people. He’s not going to stop doing unspeakable, terrible things. This was his warning to you: he was not going to stop. Unfortunately for you, it was far too late for such warnings. You were already in far too deep to back out now. Luckily, you didn’t care, nor had you ever truly cared, about such things.

                “As long as you’re decent to me, my feelings for you won’t change either,” you tell him. He seems to accept this, and his fingers tangle through your hair as he pulls your lips down to meet his again. He kisses you slowly, but passionately, and you could feel yourself becoming as desperate for him as you had been the day he had first kissed you back in your room. You supposed that your connection had always been inevitable. He had been attracted to you by curiosity, and it was that same curiosity that pulled you back towards him. But maybe it wasn’t all hormones and emotions. You felt connected to him, you had ever since you had broken the mental barrier yourself in order to reach out to him when you were trapped in that meeting room with Ladson. You weren’t sure if that was the first time you had established your link to him, or if it had been steadily building over time, but either way, you had felt subtly connected to him since that day, and you doubted if you could break that tie by pure strength of will alone. No, you were bound to him now, as he probably was to you, and you could call it love, you could call it whatever you wanted, but the truth was that you felt connected to him, and there was nothing that he could do to break that bond. There was nothing he could do to lessen your feelings towards him, not a thing, you were sure of it.

                You found your release quickly and let yourself plop down sleepily on top of him, savoring the sensation of his fingers combing through your hair. You loved it when he did that, and even though you never told him that directly, you had a feeling he knew all the same. Because he knew you that well, he could read you that well, and it was a testament to how well he had come to know you over the past few months. You didn’t know him half as well as you would have liked to, you could admit that much, but you wouldn’t trouble yourself over it. He would reveal what he wanted to reveal in good time, and there wasn’t much of a point in trying to force him to open up about things he would rather keep private. His secrecy didn’t bother you at all; you would stay by his side and shower him with unconditional support and let him know that you would be there for him no matter what, bolstering him with confidence and positive encouragement from the sidelines. If he wanted to open up to you, he could do so in his own time. You weren’t going anywhere.

                As you drifted off to sleep, Kylo Ren gently pushed you off of him, making sure you didn’t wake up. When your breathing remained steady, he slowly got up and made his way into the living room, sitting down on the couch as he rested his chin in one hand. He could feel the flow of your positive emotions, and as much as he tried to cut himself off from them, he could not. In a way, he was confused by them. You knew he wasn’t a good person, and yet it hardly seemed to matter to you. He couldn’t make sense of it, but what confused him even more at the moment was Supreme Leader Snoke. Hux had taken it upon himself to run to the Supreme Leader and tell him all about Ren’s ridiculous crush on a slave girl that he was secretly harboring. It had been a bit more complicated than that, but Snoke could always be counted on for knowing the implicit threads of a situation without being told the full details. When Ren was called before the Supreme Leader, he was sure that Snoke would tell him to kill you once and for all, to dissuade any affection that would ultimately lead to weakness.

                But instead, Snoke had surprised him. Snoke had studied Ren for a long time, and saw through him enough to see your own unwavering devotion to Ren. For some reason, it hadn’t confused Snoke. Instead, it seemed to please him, and he encouraged Ren to encourage your silly infatuation with him, all the while knowing that it would bolster Ren’s affections as well. In fact, he was counting on it. While Ren himself remained confused, but secretly relieved that he was allowed to go on caring for you without having to lie to the Supreme Leader, Snoke saw the bigger picture. Ben Solo had so much of his grandfather in him. His grandfather, Anakin Skywalker, had also loved a girl, and, when reciprocated, it was that love that had ultimately become selfish and twisted and led Anakin to the dark side when he feared losing her.

                Unbeknownst to both you and Ren, it had been Snoke who had ordered Hux to lock you away in order to determine Ren’s true feelings, and he had been pleased to see the spark of fear when he thought you could have died, the flash of anger when he feared Hux’s manipulations had turned you against him, and the burn of hatred directed towards Hux for putting you in that position to begin with. Of course, Ren’s affections for you hadn’t quite evolved as quickly as yours had, as he tried to close himself off to them, but he was weak, and he would cave to them eventually. Snoke was counting on it. He knew he could exploit that fear, as Ren was as easily manipulated as anyone, and that fear would only further push him to embrace the dark side. Snoke knew that you would, of course, have to die in order to make Ren more malleable, but for now he deemed you too weak to be anything other than insignificant.

                Although, truth be told, Snoke had actually been somewhat pleased to see the bond that had been developing between you. Ren’s hatred was starting to consume you, slowly, but it was there: Snoke had not been completely oblivious to your flash of rage. Ren, of course, cared about you enough to try to protect you from it, but Snoke saw things differently. He didn’t tell Ren, but he felt that perhaps you may have had some purpose alive after all. You were weak in the ways of the Force, that much was true, but the potential was still there. There was enough darkness in your heart alone to make you a solid candidate to be trained in the dark ways of the Force, and your blind loyalty to Ren was enough to make the effort worthwhile. Yet, he still held back. There was a solid pull to the light in you as well, just as there was in Ren, and Snoke wasn’t willing to chance things just yet. There was no need to rush anything. He would let Ren’s affections carry on and let things take their course. Supreme Leader Snoke was, above all things, patient. He had lived a long time and seen a great many things, but he had never once seen a romance end in anything but death and devastation and despair.

                Yours, he knew, would be no different.

                Ren, himself, was not looking at the big picture like Snoke was. In fact, it was one of the reasons why he considered Snoke to be as wise as he did. Ren seemed almost incapable of looking at things in the big picture. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, but he could never seem to get above simply trudging on from one day to the next. Part of the reason for this was that his moods were as unstable and erratic as the lightsaber he carried. He felt a little calmer, a little more at ease, whenever he was with you, and he felt that maybe that was the reason why Snoke allowed your relationship to continue: perhaps he felt that you provided Ren with a sense of drive and focus. That was what Ren chose to believe, anyway.

                Unfortunately, Kylo Ren had other things on his mind besides Supreme Leader Snoke. Snoke had more or less given Ren his blessing to proceed with your pitiful romance, and while Ren should have been relieved or validated, he was not. He was plagued by something else that had happened that day, something that prevented him from curling up and falling asleep beside you.

                He closed his eyes and let the memory come back to him.

                _His footsteps had clicked across the tile as he made his way across Hux’s chambers. He had never been in this room before, and he never wanted to be again. It was ridiculously lavish in a way that made him feel extremely uncomfortable. He wasn’t comparing his own dwelling to this grandeur, not in the slightest. He had felt his own quarters were too extravagant for a military base, and Hux’s room made his look absolutely pitiful by comparison. But he couldn’t be bothered with the opulent furnishings as he made his way towards Hux’s bedroom._

 _The door was open and he walked in to find Sadie awake and alert, watching him closely. His eyes immediately locked onto the collar around her neck, and he focused on that through the narrow slit in his mask. It made him uncomfortable, and he wasn’t sure why, although he considered that maybe he was responding to_ your _discomfort at her circumstances. He realized that emotional tie would have to be checked carefully, but fortunately you only seemed to get sentimental around your friends, and he was almost thankful you didn’t have too many of those left._

_“So you really did come,” Sadie said. She didn’t seem impressed, or surprised. Her tone was surprisingly neutral, and yet, he couldn’t really blame her. The last time he had seen her, he had tortured her to get into her mind- no, wait – the last time he had seen her, she had been restrained while he murdered her teacher in front of her and the others. Ren briefly recalled her fainting, but he had left the room at that point and left Hux to take care of the rest of your friends. He had other matters to attend to; in a word, you. He hadn’t really cared much for Sadie's fate, although he would have been lying if he said he didn’t feel at least a little bit sorry for her as his eyes scanned a fresh welt along the side of her face._

                _“I know what you’ve done,” Sadie continued. “Hux told me everything.” She hesitated, just for a moment, but it was still apparent. “You’ve done a lot of bad things, haven’t you?”_

_“I’m a bad person,” Ren told her, his voice distorted through the helmet. “Hux is many things, but he’s not a liar. I have killed many people.”_

_“Does she know?” Sadie asked. She shook her head before Ren had time to answer. “No, I know she doesn’t, but will you tell her? Will you ever tell her? Or will you keep deluding her?”_

_Ren cocked his head to the side, surprised and amused by her candor. “I’m not deluding anyone.”_

_“Yes you are,” Sadie insisted. “You are. You know she wouldn’t be with you if she knew the things you’ve done. She wouldn’t be with you if she knew you betrayed your own family.”_

_Ren didn’t respond to that. Part of him knew it was true, or feared it was true, at any rate. You could profess that your emotions for him wouldn’t change all you wanted, but that was easy to say when you could hide behind generalizations. He had killed “people.” He had done “bad things.” But without seeing the literal blood on his hands, it would never feel real to you. You would never understand, and Ren wanted to keep it that way. The less you knew the better._

_“Hux told me that you two are bonded through the Force,” Sadie continued. “I tried to warn her, but I don’t think she understands. You understand though, don’t you? If you stay with her, you’re going to consume her. You’re going to make her as dark and bitter and angry as you are. Don’t you know that? Don’t you care?”_

_Ren did know that. He did care. He had seen the negative emotions fueling you, but he was determined to protect you from it. But that was not something that Hux needed to know, or Sadie, for that matter. It wasn’t even something he felt compelled to admit to Snoke. He couldn’t be sure if protecting you was a sign of strength or of weakness, especially when he couldn’t be sure whether he was trying to protect you from his own anger or from yours. Either way, he was determined to do his best to protect you and care for you, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant or what that entailed._

_“You should have more faith in her,” Ren told her. “Don’t you believe she is strong enough to resist the pull to the dark side?”_

_Sadie bit her lip and seemed to consider his words. “Why would you_ want _her to resist the pull to the dark side? Unless you really did care about her?”_

_Hearing someone else, someone that he hardly knew, say it was more than Ren could handle. In an attempt to regain his intimidation, he pulled his lightsaber into his hand, and watched its glowing, red reflection in her nervous eyes._

_“Are you threatening me?” Sadie asked. She didn’t sound as scared as she looked. Instead, she sounded almost tired. She had gone through just as much as you did, and was tired of the everyday struggle of her circumstances. “If you’re going to kill me, you can at least take your mask off and let me see your face.” Ren didn’t move. Sadie looked him up and down, before finally settling her gaze on the slit in his mask. “Coward.”_

_She spit the word the same way you had when he had choked you, and that was something that still weighed heavily on his conscience. The memory came roaring back into his mind and in a burst of frustration he tore his helmet off his head, letting it clatter to the floor as he stared her down. Sadie’s eyes widened at first, as if she was surprised, but she quickly regained control of herself as she stared him down, unflinching._

_“Handsome,” she said at length. “But still evil. I can see how you hide it though.” She studied his face. “What do you do? Look at her with those dark, brooding eyes and pout at her and act all sad until she goes running into your arms? Is that what you do?” Ren let out a shuddering breath, his anger steadily building, but Sadie appeared to take no notice of it. “And, of course, that’s just a guise you put on to fool her, trying to act all sad and innocent, trying to hide what you really are. A monster.”_

_“You’re right,” he snapped, gesturing aggressively with his blade. “You’re right. I am a dark, twisted, loathsome person. She has no idea what I am, and she’s never going to know.” He holds the blade out in front of him. “She’s never going to know how I killed you, how I disposed of your body in a trash heap somewhere. No one will know, and no one will care. All I have to do is tell her that I helped you escape, and she is so_ blinded _by her feelings for me, that she’ll believe whatever I tell her. She’ll think I’m a hero, and she’ll never know that I murdered her sister in cold blood.”_

 _“Can you live with that?” Sadie asked. The trembling in her hands betrayed her, but her voice stayed surprisingly level. “You’ve killed scores of people, I’m sure, but can you continue to go to bed and fuck her every night when you know what you’ve done? Can you really touch her with_ my _blood on your hands? Are you really that evil?”_

_He hadn’t answered her. He didn’t need to answer her. Instead, he let a low growl escape his throat as he grabbed the lightsaber in both hands and swung towards her. He saw the red light reflected in her eyes for a final time as she flinched and looked away –_

Kylo Ren sighed and rubbed at his temple. She was just a pitiful girl. Nothing she said had any real consequence, anyway. Supreme Leader Snoke had ordered him to keep on caring for you, and he was more than happy to obey orders. Slowly, he got to his feet and made his way back into the bedroom. You were lying on your stomach, arm out towards his side of the bed, as if reaching for him. He smiled in spite of himself and slipped underneath your arm, resting himself on his side. He smoothed down your hair with one hand and kissed your forehead, lingering there for a moment as he savored the warmth of your skin beneath his lips.

                “Mm, Kylo,” you murmured in your sleep, moving closer to him.

                “I’m here,” he whispered softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

                “Mm, good.” You puffed out a large exhale as you fell back to sleep, one of your arms wrapped firmly around him, as if to prevent him from leaving again. Your face relaxed into a gentle smile, as if you were pacified by simply being near him. Kylo let himself smile softly as he watched you and let out an appreciative chuckle, trying to dispel the knot of tension in his chest. He let out a long sigh and allowed himself to be comforted by your unwavering devotion to him, and let it console him as he drifted off to sleep. Sadie was gone now, and he hoped he would never have to hear you say her name ever, ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ok Krae, can I be your Chris Hardwick, because you're seriously going to need like a Talking Dead style miniseries after each chapter."  
> "In my defense, we will see Sadie again, or parts of Sadie, either in the current story, or in a flashback, to help complete the story..."
> 
> I MEANT WHAT I SAID YESTERDAY GUYS. The worst is over, so consider this a jump scare before we get all fluffy!! ;) 
> 
> AND, not to give too much away, but think about Kylo's reaction. He seems rather conflicted, wouldn't you say? I would say more, but so far from the comments I've read you've all been awesome at psychoanalyzing character motivations, so I'll leave it there. But seriously, before the story wraps up, we WILL see an end to that memory...or rather...the Reader will seek it out. ;) 
> 
> And since I want to leave things off on a happy note, I have no problem telling you that we will see Phasma again next chapter!! That's always a sign of good things to come, right? ;) Until tomorrow, cheers!!


	26. Chapter 26

                “Oh, fuck, Kylo, yes, _fuck_.”

                Your moans were muffled, as your face was pressed into the warm skin of his chest, but you barely noticed as you lost yourself in the sensation of Kylo’s quick fingers pulsing in and out of you. As your short fingernails tore through the tender, smooth skin of his back, you braced yourself and found your release against him, pulling him tightly towards you as you came.

                “Okay, I do need to go now,” Kylo whispered, kissing your forehead gently.

                “No, don’t leave,” you mumbled for what had to be the eleventh time that morning. Today was the day Kylo was leaving for a few days, and you really didn’t want him to go. He could hardly blame you; the last time he had left you alone, Hux had locked you away in that cell. This time, though, he had left Phasma strict instructions to keep Hux away from you at all costs. It was even more dangerous for you now that Sadie had disappeared; Hux had rightly assumed Ren was behind it, and although he couldn’t be closer to the truth, he didn’t have the means to prove it. Still, there was always the concern that Hux would want to get even, and Kylo didn’t want to take that chance.

                “It’s only a few days,” Kylo repeated, as he had every other time.

                You cracked an eye open to look at him. “Are you going to kill anybody?” He tensed at the question, but you were quickly falling back asleep and paid it no mind. “You don’t need to tell me, but if you’re fighting, just stay safe. I want you coming back to me in one piece.”

                “I promise,” he said with a gentle smirk.

                “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you muttered, flopping over onto your back to find more comfortable position in the pillows.

                He bent down to whisper in your ear, and you could feel his hair tickling your face as he did so. “I promise,” he repeated firmly. You felt him press his warm lips against yours, and then he was gone. Not that you cared. You were already fast asleep.

 

                You roll over that morning and try to immediately identify the cause for the tightness in your chest. Kylo was gone. Of course he was gone. He had that thing he had to do, whatever that thing was. It didn’t matter. Kylo was brave and he was strong. He could handle himself for a few days off in the galaxy. The real question was, could you survive on a base alone with Hux? Kylo had freed Sadie, and Hux could probably figure out that he had been the one behind it. But did that mean he was going to take it out on you?

                Hopefully not. You quickly scamper to put some clothes on, picking them up from where they had been left on the floor from the previous night. It’s a good thing you did, because just as you headed into the kitchen, there was a firm knock on the door. “Come in,” you call. You consider running back to get your staff, but you think better of it. Hux hadn’t knocked when he came in before, and you doubted he would now.

                Instead, you let a smile cross your face as you see Captain Phasma walk through, still dressed in her familiar silver armor. She says your name, and it’s only partially muffled as she removes her helmet. “How are you faring?”

                “Good,” you tell her, sitting up on one of the kitchen stools. “How are you doing?”

                She chuckles at your question, and you idly realize that although she was probably polite to Kylo and Hux, they probably didn’t extend the same courtesy. “I’m fine.” She looks you over. “You seem to have recovered quite a bit from when I saw you last, outside that cell.”

                “Saw me last?” You blink at her. You remembered passing out after Kylo told you to sleep, and you remembered him catching you as everything went blank, but you didn’t recall seeing her there.

                “You were in the medical unit for two days,” Phasma explains.

                “What?” you ask, shaking your head. “No, no, I woke up _here_.”

                She laughs and shakes her head. “You were in very bad shape. You were extremely dehydrated and needed a lot of fluids. When the doctors said that you had almost sufficiently recovered, Ren brought you back here where he felt he could keep a better eye on you.”

                “That’s fair,” you reply, rubbing your arm uncomfortably. It bothers you that you were out for _two whole days_ and Kylo hadn’t mentioned it at all. And then, when you had woken up, you had run around the apartment screaming about how you were going to kill him. You blush in embarrassment as you remember the entire ordeal. “Hux is an ass.”

                “I’m sure he had his reasons,” Phasma says lightly. You pause, and wonder if she knows more than she’s letting on. Ren had told you that she had been furious with Hux when she found out, but maybe they had come to a sort of understanding?

                “But if you’re here, I’m guessing you’re not going to let that happen again?” you ask softly.

                “No, you have nothing to fear from Hux,” Phasma says. You know it’s supposed to comfort you, but you can’t help but think about Sadie and that insufferable collar around her neck. She catches the grimace on her face and tilts her head to the side. “What’s wrong?”

                “He could have killed me,” you say, rubbing the skin on your arms up and down with your hands. “If Kylo hadn’t found me in time-”

                “But he did,” Phasma says firmly. “As soon as Ren and I arrived back on base, my men informed me that Hux had authorized Ren’s prisoner to be transported to a cell as soon as we left. I’ve never seen that man move so fast in my life.”  

                You blush and scratch behind your head awkwardly. You knew that Ren cared about you, but of course, you were _you._ You didn’t think he would act like he cared around anyone else, even given the special circumstances of your possibly impending death.

                “Yeah,” you murmur, embarrassed. Suddenly you look up at her, struck with a sudden idea. “By the way, do you have contact with Kylo? Or is he in a part of the galaxy where there’s no, like, subspace transceivers or anything?” She tilts her head and waits for your explanation before answering. “Well, just, we talked about something this morning and I wasn’t sure if he had time to tell you before he left.”

                “Tell me what?” Phasma asks. You can tell by the look on her face that she thinks you’re full of shit, but you try your luck anyway.

                “Well, considering I’m here alone for a few days...” You shrug, doing your best to appear nonchalant. “Kylo just thought it would be better if I had some company so I felt safer, and so I didn’t get too lonely. He said LN-2829 could be relieved of his duties temporarily, just while he’s gone, of course.” You bite your lip and look at her nervously. “But he’s one of _your_ troops, so, he said it was up to you.”

                She narrows her eyes at you. “Ren asked you to get my permission?” she asks, and you quickly shake your head.

                “I mean, no,” you say quickly. Kylo Ren didn’t _ask_ , he _ordered._ “No, of course he would never do that. Kylo ordered it, but that was um, me, asking you, if it was, okay, to, you know, have LN-2829 keep me company while Kylo’s, you know, gone.” You bow your head and fidget under her intense gaze, scratching the skin off the back of your wrist.

                She seems to be enjoying your discomfort and chuckles with light humor as she puts her helmet back on. “I’ll consider your request.”

                “Thank you,” you say, and she casts a simple nod in your direction as she turns around and leaves. You wonder if Kylo told her to check up on you, or if she had simply taken the time to pay you a social visit when she knew he wasn’t around. Maybe she thought you were lonely and could use the reassurance that Hux wasn’t going to bother you again. That was definitely true.

                An hour later, one of the Storm Troopers comes by to bring you your food, and although you thank him politely, you’re a little disappointed that it wasn’t LN-2829. You weren’t quite sure how you would know if it was him or not, since they all basically looked the same in their standard white armor, but you had a feeling that you would just _know_. At first you thought that maybe it would be the Force at work, but no, the Force wouldn’t provide you with that nostalgic feeling of familiarity that came with being around an old friend.

                You would have been lying if you had said that you weren’t at least a little nervous. Sadie had assumed that LN-2829 was Ladson, but then again, she had no idea. All you both knew was that he was a Storm Trooper that had been giving Hux trouble: that didn’t necessarily mean Ladson. Sure, the LN was a clue, but then again, if he was on board as a Storm Trooper, they could have easily given him another set of initials. And if LN-2829 really was Ladson, then what did that mean? How were you going to get him off the base when he probably had to attend a roll call or something? At least with Sadie, the number of people who knew she was still here was few and far between. But if Ladson went missing, he would definitely be noticed.

                Honestly, you were almost hoping you were wrong. If Ladson was being trained as a Storm Trooper, then what did that mean? Was he being trained to fight in battle and use a blaster? You couldn’t imagine why they would train a prisoner of war in combat unless they were heavily, heavily brainwashed. And if he was, did that mean that LN-2829 was just a serial number like the countless other Storm Troopers you had interpreted for? True, some Storm Troopers had more personality than others, especially that guard outside Sadie’s door, but there were probably some people that actually wanted to be Storm Troopers, for whatever reason. Ladson, you knew for certain, did not. So what did they do to Ladson to make him compliant? Had they merely threatened and coerced him into being a Storm Trooper, or had he been brainwashed, conditioned and reconditioned, like some sort of robot?

                You wouldn’t know how to handle it if he was.

                The day passed quietly until that evening, when there was another knock on your door. “Come in,” you call from your spot on the couch. You don’t look up from the book you are reading as the Storm Trooper walks in and puts your plate of food on the counter. He stands there for a moment, watching you, as if waiting for an order or another command. But you’re almost to the bottom of the page, and you hold up a finger as your eyes skim through the last paragraph before you glance up at him. “Thank you.”

                He nods stiffly and continues to stand there, his expression concealed by his helmet. “Um,” you say softly, putting the book down as you get to your feet. This was new. Usually they just put the food down and left. “Is there something else?”

                The Storm Trooper in front of you doesn’t say anything, and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. His shoulders shake slightly, but he makes absolutely no sound, and the whole thing struck you as downright eerie. The worst part was that he was standing between you and the bedroom, and you wouldn’t be able to grab your staff to defend yourself if he attacked. Unless you could get past him…

                Suddenly something dawns on you, and you can’t believe it didn’t occur to you before. “LN-2829?” His head snaps up immediately, like it was a programmed response, and you can feel your heart thumping in your chest. You try to speak, but your tongue is suddenly too big for your mouth and you have trouble forming his name. “L-Ladson?”

                Slowly, the Storm Trooper reaches up to take off his helmet, and as he removed it from his head and lowered it to the floor beside you, you were struck by one of the most disturbing sights in the entire galaxy.

                Ladson was crying in earnest now, holding nothing back. His face was bright red, his cheeks shone with tears, and his bottom lip quivered dramatically as he tried to hold himself together. “Ladson,” you whisper softly. He lunges himself at you, and you don’t even have time to react as he pushes you back into the couch, burying his face in your lap. You sit there stiffly for a moment before you put a hand in his hair. His curly locks were all but shaved off, leaving a stiff military crew cut in its place. You want to try to comfort him, to tell him that it will all be okay, but you don’t know that it will be when you don’t even know what he’s been through.

                “You’re alive,” he bawls into your lap, and you let out a shaky sigh of relief.

                “Of course I’m alive,” you say as lightly as possible. “Please, you think someone like Kylo Ren could get the better of me? You’ve sparred with me. I’m unstoppable.”

                He just shakes his head and continues to sob, and you let him get it all out. You honestly had no idea what he had been through over the past few weeks, and you didn’t want to push him. This was probably the first time he cried like this, you realize, and although his hysterics made you very, very uncomfortable, you tried your best not to let it show, especially when it looked like he needed you more than ever right now.

                Unfortunately, your stomach decided that you had had enough and murmured a low, angry growl. “Sorry,” you say quickly, but he gets to his feet and gestures for you to go ahead. You quickly get up and grab your plate of food, watching him collapse on the couch. You don’t know what to say and so you eat quietly, never taking your eyes off off him. He’s sitting with his head in his hands, and you think his eyes are closed, but you’re not sure. Every now and then you can hear a sniffle or a sharp intake of breath as he tries to pull himself together.

                “I saw you in the hallway,” Ladson says at last. “When Kylo Ren was carrying you, after you had been locked in that cell all week. I didn’t know about it at the time. If I had, I would have rescued you. I would have saved you. You just looked-” He shakes his head. “-and you _smelled_ like _death_ and _-”_

                “Okay,” you say quickly, holding up your hand to stop him. You had absolutely no desire to replay that insufferable week in your mind. As far as that was concerned, you refused to think about it. No, instead you would let it fester quietly in the back of your brain where you would never have to dwell on it ever, ever again. “Well, at least it’s nice to know we have a good sense of comradery going. You felt guilty for not saving me, and I felt guilty for not saving Sadie sooner.”

                “Sadie?” Ladson looks up at you, and all color drains from his face. “Sadie, she’s here, she’s-?”

                “She’s okay,” you tell him. “Hux was keeping her prisoner as his own personal-” you struggle with the word, “-slave, but it’s okay now. Kylo got her out. He sent her home.”

                He stares at you like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. “Kylo Ren sent Sadie home?”

                You look to the left, and then to the right, like you’re not quite sure what he didn’t understand. “Yes.”

                He stares at you like he’s not quite sure what to believe. “You expect me to believe that that monster-”

                “Whoa-” you say quickly, holding up your hands. “I don’t tolerate Kylo Ren hate, not in this room, not in his own apartment.”

                He stares at you incredulously as he gets to his feet. “I know you don’t know this, but B was-”

                “Yeah, I know, Kylo went _whish_ -” You mimic the motion of cutting B in half with an invisible lightsaber. Ladson stares at you like you’ve absolutely lost your mind, and you look down as you grin sheepishly. You gather yourself together before you look up at him again. “B used me. You know that, you heard it himself.”

                “But it was for the greater good,” Ladson says weakly, and you can tell that this was something he had been struggling with for a while.

                “Not the way I see it,” you tell him. “I’ve never worked for the Resistance. I had no say in it. If they had asked me, it would be different, but-” you let your shoulders drop. “-they didn’t. It is what it is. I’m here with Kylo now, and that’s all there is to it.”

                Ladson sighs, as if he’s not quite sure what to say. “With Kylo?” he asks you. “So what does that mean exactly?” You start to answer, but he holds up his hand to stop you. “You have it bad for him, don’t you?”

                “Maybe you would’ve seen this coming if you believed me when I told you I was messing around with him the first time,” you say teasingly. “But seriously, Ladson, he’s not a bad guy, not around me, at least. That should count for something. And he did save Sadie.”

                “How?” he asks. It’s a fair question, but for some reason, it irritates you.

                “He did,” you tell him. “He got me up to Hux’s room to see her when Hux was out. And then one day when Hux was distracted or something, he snuck in and got her out. He sent her on a ship back home.”

                Ladson just stares you down like he’s not sure he believes you. “I haven’t heard about any unscheduled departures lately.”

                “Well of course you wouldn’t hear about it,” you retort. “It’s Kylo Ren. He tells someone to do something and it gets done. It wouldn’t be _unscheduled_ if he’s the one who scheduled it.”

                Ladson just shakes his head and sighs as he sits back down. “I don’t want to tell you this, but you’ve changed. Although that’s probably not new information, and I can’t really hold it against you.”

                “Yeah,” you say bitterly. “It looks like you’ve changed too. We’ve all changed, but I mean, whatever it takes to survive, right?” He looks away from you and you try to change the topic. “So, what have you been up to lately? Any fun stories you want to share?”

                “I’m not allowed to tell you anything,” he says curtly. “I’m allowed to stay here with you and make small talk, but I’m not allowed to tell you anything.”

                “They won’t know-” you start, but then quickly shake your head. They wouldn’t know immediately, but Kylo certainly had ways of finding out. “Okay, you’re right, I won’t push you.”

                You sit in awkward silence for a few minutes, neither of you knowing what to say. Was there anything really to say? After what you had both been through, you weren’t the same people who had been drinking wine and laughing together just a few short weeks ago. It seemed like an eternity and a day had passed since that time. Maybe you couldn’t be friends, not in the same way that you had been, but that didn’t make you any less determined to try to protect him.

                “That reminds me,” you say idly. “Have you seen Shayne around?”

                “Nope,” Ladson replies simply. “Doubt he’s still on base.”

                A flash of alarm crosses your features. “Why? Did something happen?”

                Ladson shakes his head. “Of course something happened. It’s _Shayne._ Do you think anyone could put up with him for more than five minutes before taking a blaster to his skull?”

                He looks at you for a moment and your chest puffs out in a voluntary exhale. _It’s a joke. He’s trying to make a joke._ You puff out a forced laugh, he cracks a grin, and suddenly you’re both laughing, strained, awkward laughter, but laughter nonetheless. “Oh fuck,” you say, brushing your hair back out of your face. “It’s so good to see you again.”

                “Same here,” he sighs. He leans back on the couch, putting his feet up. “I haven’t been in a position to ask questions, but is everyone else okay? I know they wanted me to interpret for Taro once, but his hands were cuffed to the table and they wouldn’t release him, so I couldn’t get too much out of him.”

                “He’s dead,” you say with all the frankness you can muster. Ladson looks over at you and raises his eyebrows, waiting for your explanation. “Blasted out of the sky,” you tell him. “He, uh, showed up here, tried to get me to escape with him. But I told him I was going to stay here and help find you guys. Guess it was a good thing I did, otherwise they’d probably still be wiping bits of my brain off the transparisteel.”

                Ladson puffs out a breath. “I’m sorry. I know you guys were close.” He looks up at you again. “Or do you hate him too, for everything?”

                “I don’t hate him.” You shake your head. “I don’t know why, but at least he tried to protect me by putting that shield in my head. B-” You rub your face with one hand. “I can’t talk about this anymore, I’m sorry.”

                “Don’t be,” Ladson says firmly. “It’s a lot, I know.” He hums to himself. “So, B is dead, C is dead, Taro and the Tortutaru are dead, right?” You nod your head silently. “And Sadie is heading back home, and Shayne is still missing?”

                “I think that about sums it up,” you tell him. “Should we go looking for him?”

                “I don’t know,” Ladson shrugs. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I can’t.”

                “Nah, I’m stuck here,” you tell him. “I might be able to get out without Kylo here if you’re escorting me, but-”

                “Nope,” Ladson says, a little too loudly. “No, I was warned you might want to take a stroll of the base. You are to stay here, under close supervision.”

                You can’t help but laugh. “It’s like he doesn’t trust me.”

                He just shrugs. “Not his orders. I think these came from Hux. Or Phasma. I mean, she-” He shuts his mouth and closes his eyes. “I know what you’re trying to do, but please don’t get me in any trouble.”

                “It was just a question,” you tell him, shaking your head. “Anyway, how am I going to get _you_ out of here?”

                “Out of here?” Ladson asks. “You mean, like, escape?”

                “That’s what it means,” you tell him.

                He stares at you and pulls his feet off the couch. “What are you playing at? Are you trying to get me killed?”

                “No,” you say quickly. “No, but if we can get you off this base before Kylo Ren comes back, then he doesn’t have to know we even had this conversation.”

                “No,” Ladson says quickly. “I can’t leave, and even if I could, I’m not going to just leave you here with him.”

                “He’s not so bad,” you tell him. “Seriously, though, I need you to find Shayne and-”

                “Fuck Shayne.” Ladson crosses his arms across his chest and pouts. “I never liked Shayne to begin with, and with his mouth, he’s probably already dead.”

                “It’s at least worth looking into,” you urge.

                “No, it’s really not,” Ladson replies. “I don’t have a lot of free time to just wander the base, but I can tell you, it’s a lot bigger than we originally thought. We’ve only seen one very small part of it, and he could be anywhere, if he’s even still here.”

                “I mean, I’ve seen Hux’s room, so I can believe it,” you tell him. Ladson raises an eyebrow. “I mean, it was like, two stories in there. It was like a mini mansion. It was like entering an alternate galaxy or something.”

                “Yeah, well,” Ladson shrugs. “Look, I don’t know about Shayne, but I’m not sticking my neck out for him. You, on the other hand-” he tilts his head to the side. “-but you’re not going anywhere, and I’m not going anywhere, so the best we can do is look out for each other.”

                You pout at him. “Would you leave if I came with you?”

                He just sighs and shakes his head. “Is that even a question? You don’t mean it.”

                You hesitate. You know that Kylo would probably trace back through your thoughts or his thoughts later, but right now, that seemed like a future problem, and Ladson needs to know you care about him, _now_. “For your safety? I would go.”

                He just laughs and shakes his head. “You’re a terrible liar; it’s a miracle you’ve survived this long.”

                You just smile and shake your head. “So are you a better fighter now, at least? Can you answer me that much?”

                “You really want to spar with me?” he asks. “I haven’t any wine.”

                “Don’t need it,” you reply. “I’ve been sparring with the great Kylo Ren. I could drop you where you stand.”

                “Really?” Ladson asks. “He’s taken you on as his apprentice?”

                You tilt your head to the side. There seems to be some sort of implication in the word, but you don’t understand it. “Apprentice? Apprentice for what?”

                He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth. “Now that I’m in the inner circles, I’ve found out that Storm Troopers like to talk and gossip.” He pauses. “A lot.” He fixes you with his steely gaze and you tug nervously at a strand of hair you had been twining around your finger.

                “Do I want to know what’s said about me?” you ask.

                “Just that you’re his inamorata,” he shrugs. “I mean, that’s nothing I didn’t know already, but they think that Ren really, you know, likes you.”

                “Oh really?” you ask. “And what evidence do they have of this?”

                “That you’re not dead yet,” Ladson says dryly. You shut your mouth and look away. “Anyway, some of them think he’s training you in the Force.”

                “Ha,” you snort. “I wish.”

                Ladson looks at you nervously. “You sure you should be messing around with the Force?” he asks. “I’ve heard a few things about this light side, dark side stuff and-”

                “I want that power,” you tell him. “Apparently I have it inside me already; I just need to figure out how to channel it. But I need it. I need it to help me protect you, and if I had it before, I could have protected Sadie.”

                “I don’t know.” Ladson shakes his head. “I mean, I know your heart is in the right place, but I worry about you being trained, especially here. I worry about what they would use you for.”

                “Kylo wouldn’t use me for anything,” you tell him indignantly. He looks away. “But the First Order, on the other hand, I don’t know what they would do with me.”

                “So are we really doing this?” Ladson asks at length. You shake your head in confusion, waiting for him to continue. “So we’re really going to stay here and work for the First Order?”

                “I don’t know,” you say with a careless shrug. “I mean, right now I’m just sort of here. I’m not doing anything yet. Are you really going to stay and be a Storm Trooper?”

                “I don’t seem to have much of a choice,” Ladson sighs. “And if you’re staying here, then I’m not going anywhere.”

                “And I’m not going anywhere if you’re not going anywhere,” you echo. “But what about Shayne?”

                Ladson just shakes his head. “Fuck Shayne.”

                “No thanks,” you say casually, brushing your hair off your shoulder. Ladson stares at you for a moment and lets out an incredulous snort. “Can you please take that armor off though? If we’re going to spar again, I don’t want to break my hand.”

                “Certainly,” Ladson says as he stands up. “This thing chafes like you wouldn’t believe.” You gesture for him to follow you into Kylo’s bedroom and he does so, nervously. “This looks surprisingly normal for Ren’s bedroom. I kind of imagined it would be like a chamber of death or something.”

                “I mean, they probably didn’t design this room with him in mind,” you tell him. “He’s not here much, anyway. He just comes back here at night to-” You roll your shoulders and let them drop.

                “I don’t even want to picture it,” Ladson says, shaking his head. “How could you though, really? Kylo Ren? All the times you told me it was him and I just never thought-”

                “Have you ever seen him without his helmet?” you ask him.

                “No,” he says. “But I’m guessing he doesn’t have tentacles then?”

                You grin and shake your head. You had completely forgotten that the first time you and Ladson had encountered Kylo Ren, you were afraid that he was concealing tentacles underneath that helmet of his. You couldn’t believe that you had forgotten that, or that Ladson had remembered it, but it did bring another memory to mind. “You were looking after me from day one,” you remind him. “Thanks for that.”

                “What are friends for?” he asks, widening his stance. “Okay, if we’re going to do this, let’s do this, because I feel really uncomfortable standing in Kylo Ren’s bedroom.”

                “Then let’s do this,” you say, throwing your leg back in a deeper lunge than you had been able to do the last time you sparred with him.

                “Well, what are we doing?”

                “Fighting?”

                “Well, what kind of fighting?” Ladson asks as he shakes his head. “Seriously? This again?”

                You smirk, remembering the conversation well. “How do you want me to hit you? Fist? Open hand? Back hand?”

                “I don’t know. Should I be scared of you?”

                “Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, we start off with smut and end with a sort of fluffy moment between friends? What is this story becoming?? xD
> 
> In terms of housekeeping, I kept to my word and we will have 30 chapters, and then an epilogue that's split into three parts, because each of them is pretty much long enough to be its own chapter anyway. Then "Chapter 34" will really be a preview for the sequel and then we're going to jump right into it! This way it gives me a bit more time to get ahead in the sequel so I can continue to give you guys the daily updates you love so much. ;) Until tomorrow, cheers!!


	27. Chapter 27

                By the time you have finished sparring, you feel as though you could collapse. Instead, you throw several jabs in the air, trying to stay on your feet. “Come on, let’s keep going.”

                “Your stamina has greatly improved,” Ladson wheezes from the floor, in between lethargic gasps for air. “I can’t. I’m done.”

                “If you say so,” you say as you plop down face-first on the bed, secretly relieved to call it a night. Ladson stays on the floor and takes deep inhales of air as you lie across the bed. Your muscles are aching, but you're not as out of breath as he is. He had put up a good fight, and matched all of your moves with counter moves, but there were more than a few times when you knocked him onto his back, or literally swept him off his feet. Kylo had always seemed one step ahead of you, but that was because he was Kylo. It was good to know that you could probably defend yourself against a novice-level Storm Trooper, although you couldn’t be sure if Ladson was going easy on you.

                You peek at him from over the edge of the bed. His face is red and there are rivulets of sweat dripping down from his hairline. No, he definitely _looked_ like he had been trying. “So how’d I do?” you ask. “Better? Am I a force to be reckoned with?”

                “Maybe they should put you in the armor,” he says. “Because you’re much better than me.”

                “Only because all I do is train day in and day out,” you tell him. “Seriously, that’s all I do here. I’m pretty much alone all day, so all I do is work out and train for like, eight hours a day.”

                “Well, at least you’re dedicated,” Ladson says as he sits up. “I should probably get to bed though.”

                “Are you leaving?” you ask him nervously. You don’t want him to go. It’s not just because you’re concerned about Hux coming in; now that you had finally found Ladson, you didn’t want him to leave. You knew he would go off to do whatever it was he had to do when Kylo came back, but that was something you didn’t really want to think about.

                “I’ll be on the couch,” Ladson says. “Remember, I’m supposed to be your bodyguard.”

                “Oh, some bodyguard you are,” you tease. “You just got yourself all tuckered out. If anyone did come through that door, there’d be no one to protect me. You would just collapse at their feet.”

                “Do you expect anyone?” Ladson asks.

                “No, the only person who I think wants me dead is Hux,” you tell him. “What would you do if he did come in and try to kill me? Would you follow your orders to protect me or would you follow his orders and let him do it?”

                “Pray that I’ll never be put in such a position,” Ladson says dryly.

                “Psh,” you mutter, because there is nothing else to say. Ladson literally crawls out of the room on his hands and knees and you can hear him groan as he eases himself onto the couch. You laugh quietly to yourself but don’t move from where you’re stretched out across the bed. It feels strange without Kylo there, and you never thought you would ever be able to say that, but you missed him.

                Slowly, you pull yourself into a seated position before you roll over onto your side, trying to get comfortable. It was weird sleeping on the pillow. It was too soft, and you just couldn’t get comfortable. Lately, you had been sleeping on Kylo’s shoulder, or his arm, or you woke up between his legs with your head resting on his stomach. That had been an interesting way to wake up, but not altogether unpleasant. You smirk at the recollection, but you couldn’t help but feel a pang in your chest. You missed him, and you weren’t quite sure how to feel about it.

                _I love you_. You mouth the words as you brush your fingers along his side of the bed where he was supposed to be sleeping beside you. Did you really love him? Or did you just feel connected to him because of whatever bond had developed between you? You close your eyes and try to picture his face. You don’t see his mask. Instead, you picture how he looks when he’s sleeping, eyes shut, lips slightly parted, hair mussed from whatever physical exploits you two had been up to that night. Your relationship wasn’t all physical, of course, there were times when you would fall asleep listening to his deep voice talk about the First Order and what they were trying to accomplish, but he still remained guarded, sharing very little personal information about himself. You knew him only by his actions towards you; could you really love someone without knowing their past?

                You could, you finally decide, because you did. You had stopped foolishly trying to think of him as an evil person. Yes, some people saw him as evil, but the world wasn’t so black and white. It existed in shades of grey, you had known that, you had always known that, and yet for some reason you had been so determined to think of Kylo Ren in absolutes. For some reason, you were fixated on the notion that Kylo had to exist on either end of the spectrum: was he good or was he bad? Was he the villain or the hero? Could you trust him or not? Did you love him or not? Well, that last one was a little different. You didn’t love someone just a little bit. If you were going to love someone, you threw yourself into them, holding nothing back. You were always cautious and reserved around strangers, but once you felt you knew someone, really knew someone, you would do anything for them. Just like Sadie. Or Ladson.

                But not Shayne? You bite your lip and think it over. True, you had never really been friends with Shayne, but didn’t you have a responsibility to try to help him? Ladson didn’t think so. Was he right? Was it really every man for himself? Ladson was your only friend right now, and yet it almost bothered you the way he said that he was staying to protect you. It was the same kind of possessive protectiveness that you had seen in Kylo when you first moved into his room. You mull it over in your head. Was that why Ladson was your best friend? Was it because some parts of him reminded you of Kylo? And vice versa?

                You shake your head and try to dispel the notion. No, the fact that there were people who cared about you enough to put their lives on the line for you just meant that you were lucky. In fact, it said more about the type of world that you lived in than it said about the choice of the company you kept. Regardless, you punch at the pillow and close your eyes, unable to sleep without the comforting sound of his steady intakes of breath to lull you to sleep.

                _Kylo, I miss you_ , you say into the void in your mind. You’re not sure if he can hear you or not. He probably can’t, but it’s worth a shot. _I’m doing okay here. I’m hanging out with Ladson. We sparred tonight, but he’s not as good as you are. Then again, I doubt there’s anyone in the galaxy who can best you._ You crack a grin in spite of yourself. _I just wanted to say that I miss you. And I hope you’re staying safe. And I hope you come home soon._

You blink and sit up immediately. _Home?_ The word had just sort of slipped out. Home? Is that where you were now? Was this home for you? You had never really considered your home planet as your home since you were only raised there for a brief time, and your academia had been a sanctuary, sure, but you never really felt like it was _home_ for you. But aboard the Starkiller Base? Was this your home now? Was it just because of Kylo? Or was it something different? You had told Ladson tonight that you weren’t going anywhere so long as he was here, but had that really changed anything? Or had it just cemented what you knew all along, that you weren’t going anywhere.

                You smile in spite of yourself and grab a blanket. You were having way too many deep thoughts tonight, and there was no way you were going to get to sleep with them mulling around your mind. Draping the blanket over your shoulders, you walk over to the couch to see Ladson sitting up, his chin resting on his arm. “Can’t sleep?” you ask lightly. He blinks and looks up at you, as if he hadn’t heard you approach.

                “Nah.” He shrugs lightly, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingertips.

                You walk over to the far end of the couch and sit down, stretching out. You fit the length of the couch perfectly, and so your feet end up in Ladson’s lap. “This okay?”

                “Yeah,” he says as he adjusts your feet in a more comfortable position. “But are you really going to sleep here when you have that big bed inside?”

                “T’is lonely,” you mope, pouting your bottom lip at him.

                “Fair enough,” he says. “I don’t, well, I haven’t slept well since we’ve gotten here.”

                “Wish we still had that wine,” you tell him, and he chuckles in agreement.

                “Get some sleep,” he says quietly, stroking the tender skin above your ankle. You close your eyes and bury your face in the cushion as you slowly drift off to sleep.

                You both sleep in that morning and are awakened only by the sound of a Storm Trooper knocking on the door to deliver your meals. He has two plates with him, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to share. Kylo Ren had a fully furnished kitchen, and yet it was completely bare, considering he never ate there. You had no idea when or where he ate, but you could probably assume that the elite staff had their own special cafeteria where they got food, separate from the Storm Troopers and the rest of the personnel.

                “Would you ever want to cook?” Ladson asks over what you could only call brunch. You’re sitting with him at the breakfast bar, shoulder to shoulder, just like old times.

                “I don’t know,” you reply honestly. “I mean, I’ve thought about it.” You hit his arm lightly. “See, this is why we need to find Shayne. I could hire him on as Kylo Ren’s private chef.”

                Ladson just shakes his head. “The food wasn’t _that_ good.”

                “It was hit or miss,” you admit. “So, if we’re stuck in all day, what do you want to do?”

                “Is there anything to do?” he asks, looking around.

                You just shrug, stuffing more food into your mouth. “See? This is why I work out so much. Nothing else _to_ do.”

                Ladson just sighs. He had scarfed down his food a lot faster than you had. He slides off the stool and kneels down to sit cross-legged on the floor. “Come, sit.” He pats the spot of tile floor in front of him.

                “But food,” you say quickly, pointing to your half-finished plate, and he lets out a long sigh.

                “Come, sit,” he repeats.

                “Okay, fine, but if this gets cold I am not going to be happy,” you murmur sullenly as you slide to the spot on the floor across from him. “So, what is it? Admiring his apartment from a whole new perspective?”

                “You remember what I said yesterday?” Ladson asks.

                “Every word,” you reply. “You don’t need to remind me or be specific or anything; I know exactly what you’re talking about. I am that good.”

                “Are you?” he asks, and you tilt your head to the side.

                “Okay, give me the context,” you sigh.

                “So I literally don’t know anything about the Force,” Ladson says. “And I know what I said yesterday but I changed my mind. You’re, I don’t know, stronger now-”

                “And you had this revelation while I was kicking your butt last night?” you ask teasingly.

                “Shush,” he says firmly. “So I remember everything that B said when we were in that cell. Taro really put a mental shield in your head to block Kylo Ren from getting in?”

                “That he did,” you reply firmly.

                “But-”

                “Yes, it’s gone now,” you say with a sigh. “I tried rebuilding it, but Kylo’s stronger than me. A lot stronger. He can just go – _boom_ – and it’s down.”

                Ladson looks you over. “Does he do that mind thing to you a lot?”

                “Not a lot,” you say with a shrug. “Like three times? Maybe four?” You see Ladson visibly wince. “You too, huh?”

                “Twice now,” Ladson says. “It’s, it’s absolutely terrible. It’s like your brain is literally popping in your skull.”

                “It’s not _that_ bad,” you say lightly, but you're silenced with one look from Ladson. “Okay, yes, yes it is. But what does this have to do with me?”

                “Well, if you have the Force, then you should be able to do that too, right?” he asks. You stare at him, shaking your head side to side so rapidly your hair flies in your face. “Oh come on, it’s worth a shot.”

                “No, I can’t do it,” you tell him. “If I can’t even build a wall, how am I supposed to get into your head?”

                “Because building a wall is passive, right?” he asks. “I mean, it takes time and patience, and you’re not a patient person.”

                “Gee, thanks,” you say bitterly.

                “It’s true though,” he insists. “I don’t know, but I feel like building a wall would require you to just sit there for literally hours on end with little progress. Reading someone’s mind is more aggressive though, right? It’s more forceful, like you have to _do_ something.”

                “Like throwing a punch,” you murmur. He had a point. “But you just said you don’t know anything about the Force.”

                “I’m speculating,” he admits. “But isn’t it worth a shot? I remember when you reached out to Taro with your mind back when-”

                “Actually, I reached out to Kylo Ren,” you tell him sheepishly. “Not Taro.”

                Ladson sighs and rubs at his forehead with one hand. “Okay, but see? Doesn’t that prove my point? If you could reach out to him, then you can probably do other things too. You just need to practice.”

                You blow out a deep exhale. “Okay, then, if we’re going to do this, then let’s do this.” You hold your hands out in front of you, then let them drop into your lap. “No, sorry, I can’t. I can’t do this. I don’t want to hurt you.”

                “Don’t worry about that,” Ladson says dismissively. “It might not even hurt when you do it. Just give it a shot.”

                You close your eyes and put both palms against his temple, trying to focus. You close your eyes and gaze into the immense blackness behind your eyelids. You had been able to get into Kylo’s mind a little bit while he was viewing your memories, but all you had been able to do was read his emotions. Even still, he had already opened the connection at that point. How were you supposed to be able to open it? You try to envision yourself walking through the darkness in your mind, as if down a long corridor, before you finally reach a door that looks much like one of the ones you would find on the Starkiller Base. Slowly, you raise your fist to the level of your eye and knock.

                “Ow,” Ladson says, and you drop your hands sharply.

                “I did it?” you ask, barely able to contain the excitement in your voice. “I really did it?”

                “Did what?” Ladson asks, massaging his temples with his fingertips. “You were squeezing the life out of my skull. I thought my eyes were about to pop out of my sockets.”

                “Oh.” You close your eyes, unable to conceal your disappointment.

                “No, hey, I’m sure you were doing great,” Ladson says, and it’s all you can do not to glare. “Okay, okay, fair enough. But let’s give it another shot.”

                “Okay,” you sigh. “Um, do me a favor. Think of something emotional, okay? Like a strong memory. That might help.”

                “Gotcha,” Ladson says under his breath. You readjust your hands, using only your fingertips, as you close your eyes and focus. You stare into the blackness behind your eyelids and wait until you feel as though a path opens up in front of you. You start walking along the dark corridor again, only it doesn’t feel as though you were walking as long as you had before to get to the door. This time, you don’t even knock.

                _Open_. You tilt your head forward slightly, trying to focus all of your energy into making the door move, and it slowly slides open. You try to quell your eager sense of excitement as you walk through. Ladson sucks in a breath, just for a second, and your concentration almost wavers, but you hold your ground. Even still, you can’t see anything, and you can feel an itching sensation under the skin in your arms as your frustration grows. 

                _Show me something. Show me something. Show me._

                Inside your head, your voice is yelling, authoritative, and filled with anger. Suddenly you see a flash of white and you’re not sure if it’s from him or from you and then suddenly you see yourself lying on your side in that cell, your back to him. “Is she dead?” You can hear Sadie shrieking, but it sounds like she’s shouting from the end of a long tunnel, and her voice is being bounced from wall to wall before her voice finally makes its way to you. You can see Ladson wrap his arms around her as he glances towards B.

                “It’ll be fine,” B says quietly, although his eyes are red with tears. “It’ll be all right; I’ll get you four out of this, I promise.” He looks so weak, so vulnerable, so afraid, so…human. You forcibly throw Ladson’s face away from you and he lands on his elbows on the floor behind him.

                “Don’t,” you snarl, and you can feel tears welling up in your eyes as well. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to humanize him. He used me as bait. _He_ was the monster, not Kylo.”

                Ladson shakes his head. “Believe me, I wasn’t _doing_ anything.” He lets out a breath. “You did it, though. You got into my head.”

                You take a deep breath to steady yourself, pulling your knees into your chest, and Ladson gives you time to collect yourself. You quickly realize that Ladson hadn’t been trying to do anything at all; you were seeing B as Ladson saw B, more of a parental father figure. He never suffered the same kind of betrayal that you did, so of course he could see him in that light. Honestly, you were a bit surprised at how clear his face was in Ladson’s memory. Were all of your memories that sharp and intact? You remembered what B looked like, but it was as faint as the memory of your father. You could make out some distinguishing features, like the color and shape of his hair, but it was all fuzzy and faded. Looking at him now made you feel like you were back in that cell, only two feet away from him.

                “Do you want to try again?” Ladson asks quietly. “Maybe we should stay away from the emotional stuff. I just thought that if you remembered being in that cell too-”

                “No, no,” you say quickly. “No, it was a good plan. And hey, it worked, so, yay.” Your shoulders slump. You should be happy that you were able to do it, but suddenly you were too burdened to care. What did it matter if you could read Ladson’s mind, anyway? That would hardly help you. You didn’t get to see anyone but Kylo day in and day out and you couldn't practice on him. He was too strong for you and it wasn’t like there was just a surplus of willing volunteers to practice on. What good was developing a skill if you would never use it?

                “We could try other things,” Ladson offers. “Like, what else can Ren do with the Force?”

                “Well,” you say softly. “I think he can use it to control matter, like push things and pull things.” You think about it. “And he can make things stay in place. Like if you’re walking towards me, I can make you stop.”

                “So let’s try that,” Ladson says as he gets to his feet, extending a hand to help you up.

                “After breakfast,” you reply quietly as you take his hand. You climb back onto the stool to continue eating, but the food is cold in your mouth. Nevertheless, you eat it slowly, trying to erase the image of B from your mind. Right now, seeing B that way just made you sad, and if there was one thing you realized, is that you apparently had to be _angry_ to use the Force. Kylo had warned you that if you were too angry you would be unfocused and he wouldn’t be able to teach you anything, but at least when you were angry you seemed to get things done.

                Regardless, you spent the day trying to use the Force without much success. At first you had Ladson walk around the couch while you tried to stop him in place, but after about half an hour of that going absolutely nowhere, you had him just stand there while you tried to push him with your mind. That had even less success, and you decided to call it quits when your second meal arrived. You carried on light conversation about what life had been like before you arrived on base, but you couldn’t help but be distracted by your failure. Yes, you had gotten into his head for a brief moment, but what if that was a fluke? If the Force was there inside of you, why couldn’t you build a wall in your head? Why couldn’t you push him backwards? How did Kylo do all of it so easily? Was his access to the Force simply more powerful than yours, or was it simply a matter of training? If he saw you at least making some progress on your own, would he train you, or would that push him further against the idea?

                The next few days went by in a rush. You sparred with Ladson at night until you were both sore and out of breath, and then collapsed on the couch together. You slept until breakfast, and then during the day, you tried to use the Force. You were able to get into his mind several times, but as you found it getting easier to do so, Ladson felt that it was getting more painful. Still, you kept pushing, and it wasn’t until he physically pulled himself away from you that you decided to stop. Nevertheless, it was the only thing that you had actually managed to accomplish. You couldn’t push him, or knock him over, and it wasn’t for lack of trying. You had done everything to try to make yourself angry, even thinking about the way Hux had treated Sadie, but it didn’t do you any good. You couldn’t push him. It looked like the only thing you could really _do_ with the Force was get inside people’s heads, and even then you had to sit there and concentrate really hard while they were a willing participant. You couldn’t imagine when that would come in handy.

                Nevertheless, you were glad to spend time with Ladson again. It was hard for you to admit to yourself, but you had been going just a little crazy focusing on how to save Sadie and blaming yourself for everything that was going on around you. Kylo was right. You had been getting swept up in your anger, consumed by it, but you couldn’t be sure why it was suddenly alleviated now. Was spending time with Ladson causing you to feel like your old self again? Or was it because Kylo was away? You knew that you were connected, bonded, and you always knew that his turbulent moods had an impact on you one way or another, but were you actually absorbing his negative energy? Was his rage fueling your anger? How could you protect yourself from it? The only way you could put a damper on it, besides physical distance, of course, was to reconstruct the wall in your head. At least when Ladson went back to work, you would have the time to reconstruct that wall. And who knew, maybe while you were practicing on Ladson, the Force may have built up enough of a charge within you to make the wall building at least a little bit easier.

                That was what you had planned on, anyway. The days had all bled into each other, and you had no idea when Kylo was returning, so you carried on each day as you had the day before. One night, you were back in the bedroom, sparring, each of you tired and aching but still giving it your all.

                “Come on,” you urge as you punch his shoulder. He tries to grab your arm and twist it out to the side, but you spin around and pull and twist your knee up to your side, thrusting it into his abdomen.

                “You have such damn long legs,” he says, just managing to catch your ankle before you can pull your foot away.

                “I can’t help it,” you say as you struggle to pull away. You are standing on one foot, with nothing to grab onto for balance, while he holds your ankle in his hands. You try to kick up, trying to knock him in the chin, but he just darts his head to the side and keeps his grip firm. Frustrated and exhausted, you decide to just let yourself fall backwards, letting him fall in a heap on top of you.

                “Oww,” he cries out. His face meets the carpet above your shoulder and his one knee is pressing sharply into your thigh so you move your leg out to the side in a more comfortable position. He’s effectively straddling you, and the awkward position makes you laugh. “Okay, enough, I’m too tired to move.”

                “You can’t go to sleep here,” you tell him, pushing playfully at his chest. “You’re crushing me.”

                Ladson makes loud sounds of snoring and you just giggle and shriek playfully from underneath him, trying to push him off, but not trying too hard. In fact, you’re so caught up in it that you don’t even notice that the door to the apartment has opened and someone has come inside.

                You’re not sure what sensation you’re alerted to first. You feel a sudden bubble of anger in your chest directed at Ladson, and as you try to figure out why or where it’s coming from, you see a dark shape move into the doorway out of the corner of your vision. You’re just about to say something when Ladson goes flying off of you, pulled into the air by his throat. You immediately get to your feet and try to say something, try to explain that that wasn’t what it looked like, when Kylo holds up his other hand. Your legs stop moving and your voice is immediately caught in your throat.

                You can’t move, but you can still feel Kylo’s anger pulsing out of him like a heat wave as the frantic sounds of Ladson’s strangled gasps for air flood your ears.

                _Oh shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh no, he's choking on food!" xD  
> I take it everyone's seen the SNL skit already, but it's still funny no matter how many times I watch it. I've literally seen it so many times I don't even need to find a good captioned version of it anymore because I've got the entire script memorized. (If you haven't seen it yet, for whatever reason SNL has captioning disabled on Youtube AND Facebook so you actually have to go to their website and play the whole episode to watch it with captions. T'is dumb. =/) 
> 
> But otherwise, yeah, tomorrow is going to be a fantastic chapter!! It's honestly one of my favorites and I had a lot of fun writing [content blocked for spoilers], so hopefully that gives you guys something to look forward to. Until tomorrow, cheers!!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW content ahead

                Kylo has Ladson in a Force hold beside you, and you know if you don’t do something soon that he’s not going to last much longer. You screw your eyes shut and try to send out a message with your mind. _KYLO. IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE. LET HIM GO._ You open your eyes to see Kylo tilt his head slightly to the side, as if he had heard you.

                Suddenly, you can feel yourself move again and you stand up straight, bending your knees slightly as you hold both hands out in front of you. “I said let him go,” you shout, but it’s both with your voice and with your mind, and as you push him, it doesn’t come from your hands, it comes from your mind, and your body, and your spirit, as if your entire being threw itself at Kylo while your feet remained stationary on the floor.

                The effect is immediate. Kylo stumbles backwards into the doorway, as if you had actually shoved him back, and Ladson falls to his knees.

                You try to help him up as he sputters and gasps to try to catch his breath, but he just pulls his arm away from you as he starts to run to the door. “Not so fast.” Kylo’s voice is distorted through the mask, and as he extends his hand, you can see Ladson’s head snap back as his entire body freezes.

                “No, let him go,” you repeat firmly. You try to shove him again with your mind, but it’s not working and idly you wonder if the Force needs time to recharge. Instead, you physically walk up to Kylo and grab him from behind, trying to pull him back into the bedroom. He’s not budging, but as he starts to turn, you make the sudden decision to pull him down with your full weight, throwing yourself down to the floor like you had before. You grab the arm that is closest to you and hook your hands through his elbow. He stumbles towards you, and you quickly and nimbly spin around on one foot as you close the bedroom door shut with him inside, giving Ladson time to escape. You knew LN-2829 would probably be in trouble later, but maybe you could talk some sense into Kylo now and prevent that.

                Kylo’s glaring at you through his helmet, and you can tell he didn’t like that little maneuver you just pulled. “What?” you ask quietly. “You know I’m pretty agile. I thought you liked that about me.”

                Kylo pauses for a moment, although the weight of his glare through the slit in his mask never ceases. “Explain.”

                “We were just fooling around,” you say lightly, shaking your head as you immediately regret the choice of words. “You know, sparring. He fell on top of me. We weren’t doing anything.”

                He pauses for a moment. “I heard you yelling. Telling him to get off.”

                “Yes, but I was laughing,” you explain patiently. You can’t believe how thick he is, that you actually have to take the time to explain this. “He wasn’t hurting me. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

                Kylo takes a few steps towards you, his expression still concealed by his helmet. “I don’t want anyone touching you that way.”

                “He didn’t _touch_ me,” you say firmly. “We were sparring. We were playing around. I was okay with all of it. You’ve seen inside my head before. Nothing happened then and nothing happened now.” Your eyes glance down to grab his gloved hand as you lead it up to your temple. “Don’t believe me? Have a look.”

                You feel a sudden sense of pressure, a sudden lightheadedness, as if you were experiencing a sudden drop in altitude, but he pulls his hand away at the first sign of a grimace. You both stare at each other, it’s not angry enough to be called a glare; there’s no weight behind it. Cautiously, you reach up to the temple of the helmet and close your eyes, trying to focus. You take two steps into that familiar blackness, but that’s all there is. Before you always had to walk at least a little bit to get into Ladson’s mind, but it was as if Kylo’s was right there. You see, or at least, you think you see, a flash of red, maybe from a blaster or his lightsaber. It’s just a tiny red glow, way off in the distance, like a flare burning in the dark. As you continue to try to focus on it, you suddenly realize that your heart is racing and your sweat is cold on your arms, almost as if-

                Kylo grabs your wrist and jerks your hand away from his face. “What was that?”

                You blink at him. You could ask him the same question. “The Force,” you reply lamely. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

                He grabs you by your upper arms and pushes you back into the wall behind you. He’s looming over you, but it’s been so long since you were intimidated by him that it doesn’t even register. He’s studying your expression carefully now, you can tell, and you wish he’d take that mask off so you can see his face. Or maybe he doesn’t want you to. Maybe that’s the whole point.

                “I want you to train me,” you say at length. “I’m strong. You know I am. Not just physically, or mentally, but I can feel this Force power or whatever is inside of me. I want you to train me to control it.”

                He just shakes his head and releases you, turning his back on you. You lean back against the wall and cross your arms over your chest, waiting for him to gather his thoughts. “It’s not up to me,” he says at length.

                “Then can I talk to the guy in charge-?” The words are barely even out of your mouth before Kylo thunders his reply.

                _“NO.”_

                “Okay then,” you say simply, exhaling through your nostrils. “Guess I’ll just have to go on teaching myself then.”

                “Don’t,” he says firmly, but you can sense something else in his voice, and he sounds almost resigned.

                “I know you care about me and want to protect me, but it doesn’t really help me if you don’t tell me anything that’s going on,” you say quietly.

                “I can’t,” Kylo tells you, making no effort to conceal how defeated he sounds.

                “Then...” You shrug your shoulders in irritation. “Can’t you teach me in secret? No one has to know.”

                “He’ll know,” he says darkly. “Your presence has not gone unnoticed by him.”

                “Well, that’s ominous,” you murmur under your breath. He turns to you, exasperated by how you can appear so flip. “Well I get that you’re trying to sound foreboding, but I’ve never met your Supreme Leader, so it’s a little hard to be intimidated by him.” You drop your gaze. “Although _you_ seem to be intimidated by him, so that should tell me something right there.”

                He takes a step towards you and you flinch instinctively. It was that damn mask, keeping you on edge. You immediately relax as his fingers stroke your cheek, but you wish he would just take it off. “He knows about you.”

                You let out a breath, trying to appear annoyed and not the least bit affected. “Again, good thing or bad thing?”

                He tilts his head to the side and at first you think he’s not sure before you realize that he just doesn’t want to say. Suddenly it occurs to you that this Snoke person might be able to get inside Kylo’s head too. As much as you didn’t want Ladson getting in trouble, you didn’t want Kylo to get in trouble either.

                “Hey, you know what, don’t worry about it,” you tell him, trying way too hard to compensate for the fact that you basically just spent your previous week training. “It was just a one-time push, right? Probably didn’t mean anything. It was just a fluke, right? Just a fluke.”

                The harder you tried to appear nonchalant, the harder it was for Kylo to take you seriously. On some level, you probably assumed that, but even still, you had no idea what he was about to do next. He fiddled with his belt for a moment and pulled out his lightsaber. Involuntarily, you pressed your back against the wall, trying to make yourself smaller. That thing pretty much radiated bad vibes, and you didn’t like it, not one bit.

                “Take it.” Kylo offers it to you, and you stare at the slit in his mask.

                “Are you fucking kidding me?” you demand. “No.” Incensed by your rejection, he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand forward, pushing it into your hand as he curls your fingers around it. You hold it away from your body as far as possible, as if it’s a vicious animal that might strike you.

                “Turn it on,” Kylo orders, the low rumbling of his modulator making his voice sound more threatening than it should.

                “I can’t,” you tell him. “If I do, I’m going to lose an arm or a leg or I’m going to end up accidentally slicing you in half.”

                He sighs and positions your hands on the hilt, holding it out in front of you at an angle so you won’t hurt yourself with it if you summon the blade. Even still, it seemed to have a mind of its own, and you couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t going to leap out of your grasp and slice your hand off anyway.

                “Okay, fine, if you’re so intent on me killing you,” you huff. “How do you exactly turn this thing on anyway?”

                “There’s a Force toggle,” Kylo tells you. “You need to channel the Force in order to summon it.”

                “Okay, really, that push thing was a fluke,” you insist. “I’m not going to be able to do this.”

                “Try,” he orders, and you roll your eyes and take a deep breath. He was not going to stop until you humored him, and so the best you could do was, well, try.

                You try to push your energy into both hands to make it glow, but nothing happens. You try to push with your mind, but again, nothing. You recall how easily he had summoned it, as if it was merely an extension of himself. You blink, unable to realize how stupid you were. Back when he was showing it to you, you had realized that it was his main weapon without him even telling you. Had that been something you pieced together using logic or something you sensed? Either way, it was worth a shot. If it responded to Kylo, if you could channel _his_ energy, then maybe you could turn it on.

                You close your eyes and concentrate. You’re vaguely aware that Kylo is watching you closely beneath his helmet, arms folded across his massive chest. _Sooner you do this, the sooner he takes that stupid helmet off._ You try to get into his head again, trying to relax yourself, trying to push your conscious into the mental bond that flowed between you as if it was a tangible thing. You pretend that you’re floating along an invisible river, drifting out of your head and into his. You try to feel what he’s feeling, the pressure of the helmet against his face, the armor on his back, weighing down his shoulders, the tension in his biceps as he stands with his arms folded. You try to feel everything he’s feeling, his care and concern for you tangled up with a sense of curiosity as to whether or not you’ll really be able to do it, but you can’t tell if that’s what he’s actually thinking right now or if that’s just what you think he’s feeling. Regardless, you let the emotions flow until you can actually feel yourself standing there, in Kylo’s boots, watching yourself focus. And, if you were Kylo, all you would have to do was just... _push._

Your eyes jolt open as you feel a strong vibration beneath your hands. It’s humming, but it’s not cracking and hissing as loudly as it had when Kylo had held it. Even still, the vibration is intense, almost as though it’s about to come apart at the seams, and it feels heavier than you had imagined, like you were holding an actual sword. You hold it a little ways in front of you and move it from side to side, trying to ignore the sweat on your palms. You completely forget that Kylo is in the room. You forget about Ladson, about your fear, about everything, as you’re overcome by a sheer sense of awe at this blade that you managed to evoke from under your own fingertips. You step forward and move it through the air with a sense of purpose now, but the blade almost seems to pull itself against the direction you’re moving it in. All it does is remind you of how heavy it is, and you’re overwhelmed by its weight, the antagonism of the blade, and the vibration of the hilt. Your muscles still ache from sparring with Ladson, and you don’t have the energy to keep it up any longer.

_Kylo, make it stop._

                But he doesn’t have to do anything. As soon as the thought crosses the threshold of your mind to make it to his, the light disappears. You don’t even hand it back to him. Instead, you just set it down on the floor and back away from it, keeping your eyes trained on it like it may come to life and attack you at any second. “I shouldn’t have been able to do that,” you say suddenly, although you’re not sure if the thought came from your mouth or his head.

                “No,” he agrees solemnly. “You’ve been busy while I was away.”

                “I didn’t mean to,” you say. He glances up at you before bending down and picking up the hilt. “I mean, I was just trying to-”

                “Protect yourself from me?” he asks.

                “No,” you say quietly, because that’s not what you were trying to do at all. “No, I was just trying to understand this, whatever this is. If I have some sort of power, I want to be able to harness it, channel it, use it to help protect me and my friends.”

                “You want control,” he says, any tone concealed by the grumbling distortion. “You want power.”

                “No.” You sigh with exasperation. “No, I mean, yes, power, I guess, but not for me. For them. To protect you and myself and the people I care about.” You rub your arm uncomfortably. “Which, I mean, I guess at this point just includes Ladson, since you rescued Sadie.” He turns away, and you bite your lip nervously. “You did rescue Sadie, right?”

                He turns back to you sharply. “Do you doubt me?”

                “No,” you say quickly. “No, it’s just that Ladson said he didn’t hear of any unscheduled departures, so I just, I wasn’t sure-” You shake your head quickly. “No, I believe you. I trust you, implicitly. You know that. I mean, you’re Kylo Ren. If you told someone to take her and bring her back to her home planet, they would obey you without question.”

                He pauses for a moment, assessing you, looking you over. “Sadie is no longer aboard the base.”

                “Good,” you reply. You consider his awkward phrasing for a moment as Kylo turns around and heads past you into the living room. You’re about to stop him, but a quick glance over his retreating form reveals that the room is empty. Ladson’s discarded armor is gone, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt in your chest. “Ladson’s not in any trouble, right?” Kylo just grunts as he takes off his helmet, and you wait in the bedroom as he undresses. “Seriously, he didn’t do anything wrong. If you really want to see what I’ve been up to, look in my head, not his.”

                He doesn’t answer, and you wait with your arms crossed over your chest for him to return. When he finally reappears in the doorway, you can’t help but let a grin float to your face as your eyes skirt across his features: dark eyes, sharp nose, full lips, his hair still wavy and perfect somehow underneath that helmet. He glances down at your reaction, almost as if he’s blushing. “I’ve missed you,” he says quietly.

                “I missed you,” you tell him. “A lot.” You push your back against the wall as he approaches you, lifting his hands under your thighs as he hoists you up to his level. You slip your arms around his neck and brush the tip of your nose against his. “You came back,” you murmur against his lips, feeling the delicate, tender skin beneath your own.

                “I promised,” he replies simply, and his voice is that low, husky tone that you love so much.

                You don’t hold anything back. One hand fists in his hair behind his right ear while the other glides down over his shoulder, tearing down between his shoulder blades. You want him so badly you’re practically panting in his open mouth as he kisses you roughly, trapping your lower lip between both of his as he playful nips at your lower lip.

                “Oh, please, fuck,” you gasp, and you can feel his fingers, still warm from his gloves, tickling the sensitive area just beneath your bellybutton. He sticks one finger in your waistband, then two, until you can just feel the tip of his fingertips against your clit.

                “I seem to recall that you like this,” he whispers tauntingly, his bottom lip caressing your earlobe.

                “Just a little bit,” you reply, thrusting your hips towards his in short, frantic bursts, desperate to feel his fingers inside of you.

                “Just a little bit?” he repeats, and you groan loudly as you feel his fingers pull out of your waistband.

                “I’m not going to beg you,” you whisper.

                “Oh no?” he asks, licking the sensitive hollow where your neck meets your jawline.

                “No,” you pant, feeling bolder. “No, maybe you should beg me, to have the _privilege_ of getting to push yourself inside of me.”

                He pulls away from you slightly, smirking wickedly, his eyes alight with good humor. “You know I can take whatever I want.”

                “Take me then.” Your words come out in a rush as you cover your mouth with his, kicking back off the wall. He stumbles but maintains his grip on you, and you push him backwards onto the bed, landing on top of him. You flip your hair backwards out of your face as you bend down to kiss him again, one hand gently brushing the hair off his forehead while the other hand trails over the muscles in his upper arm. He has one hand on the back of your neck, his fingertips gently rubbing small circles into your hairline while his other hand reaches under your shirt, warming the soft skin of your lower back.

                All at once, he rolls over, pinning you beneath him. It would never cease to surprise you how effortless the transition seemed. One moment you were on top, kissing him, and the next you were on your back with his lips feverishly sucking at the delicate skin at the base of your neck, just above your collarbone. You stretch your arms out above you, letting the backs of your fingers trail against the soft material of the blanket beneath you as he reaches one hand under your shirt, grabbing your breast roughly with one hand. He pulls your shirt up just to your shoulders, and you bite your lip and blush as you watch his tongue trace circles around the pale pink flesh of your erect nipple.

                “Lower.” You put your hand on the top of his head and try to push him down, desperate to feel his lips against your clit. Hell, you would have even loved it to just feel the way his full lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your abdomen as he placed a trail of kisses down your side, but he stayed firm, nipping at the swell of your breast to indicate his displeasure with your orders. You gasp as you feel the light brush of his teeth against your fragile skin, and you buck your hips up against him, moaning loudly. You want more. You _need_ more.

                Finally, he abandons your breast as his lips reach up to find yours again. You take advantage of this position to wrap both legs firmly around his waist, hoisting your hips off the bed as you grind against his stiff length before your hips eventually drop back down. “Eager,” he muses, his lips just above yours.

                “Oh, and you’re not?” you ask, but he seems content to torture you as he moves one hand to stroke the top of your head as he kisses your neck, softly, gently, _slowly_. You had always known that he was going to torture you one way or another, but you never thought that you would enjoy it quite this much. He knows how long he’s been away, and you’re so desperate for him, so ready for him, and yet he is kissing you agonizingly slowly, leisurely using his tongue to tickle every expanse of exposed skin, tormenting you with his gentle affection.

                “What do I have to do?” you ask, your voice slick with need. “What do I have to do to make you go faster?”

                “Show me what you want,” he whispers, and your lip trembles as the sound of his deep, low voice reaches your ears. At first you’re unsure of what he means as he rolls off to one side, pulling your shorts down to get better access. He toys with your sensitive clit with one hand, while the fingertips of his other hand find their way to your temple.

                You close your eyes and at first you’re caught up in a mixture of sensations. There’s a brief jolt of pain as he enters your thoughts, but at the same time, your hips are bucking up towards his hand, desperate for more. _Show me what you want_. You remember when he had you up against the wall for the first time in your room, his fingers thrusting into you rapidly-

                Suddenly you _feel_ it and it takes you a moment to realize that he’s really jamming his fingers inside you at a rapid pace, and it’s not something that you’re recalling from your memory. Kylo lets out a sharp intake of breath from somewhere above you that doesn’t sound like anything you’ve ever heard before, and that’s when you realize that he’s really in your head. When you were in his, you felt that brief bubble of jealousy within him as he was viewing your memories of Sadie. So if he was in your head, right now, viewing your memories of, well, _that_ , then he could feel whatever it was that you were feeling. He could feel what it really felt like to be fingerfucked by himself, and as twisted as that sounded, it was kind of hot in a really weird way.

                You try not to think about it as your roll your head back and just let your body pulse with sensation, letting Kylo feel everything that you were feeling. Suddenly, a brazen thought makes its way to the forefront of your mind. _Kylo_ , you say, reaching out to him with your mind. _In me. Now._

There’s a sudden shift of weight on the bed as Kylo slides off, pulling his fingers out of you. You feel his lips press against you for a moment, his tongue lapping up your juices, and it’s all you can do not to come right then and there. You buck your hips up and moan, and he wipes his mouth dry on the inside of your thigh before he adjusts his position and pushes himself into you.

                “Oh fuck,” you pant, wrapping your legs around his back. “Closer.” As he moves up onto the bed, your legs inadvertently slide up over his shoulders, each leg on either side of his head. He continues to fuck you, the fronts of your thighs pressing into your sides as your knees knock against your shoulders. It’s hot, at first, and your flexibility is impressive, but your aching muscles are tiring out fast from your sparring with Ladson. Kylo seems to realize this as he lifts up one arm and then the other, allowing you to slide your legs back around his waist as he leans forward, pressing his bare chest against yours.

                Your lips crash into his as you grab his head in both hands, palms on either side of his temple. You try to close your eyes, try to focus, and it’s difficult to focus with him pumping away inside of you, but you try to get into his head just as you did before, taking two steps down that dark corridor to get inside his thoughts. You’re vaguely aware that his hands are now on either side of your temple as well and for a moment you can’t feel anything; your body becomes completely robbed of any and all sensations as your mind links up with his. Then, like a wave crashing against the shoreline, it all comes to you in a rush. You can feel everything, absolutely everything. You can feel his stiff length inside of you, pumping against your warm, slick walls. You can feel your sweaty palms braced against his temples, his damp hair tickling your fingertips. You can feel his large hands on either side of your head, but you can also feel your own tender skin underneath his calloused palms. He bends down to plant a kiss on your forehead, and you can taste your own salt from your sweaty skin combined with the sensation of the pressure from his lips.

                The combined sensations are overwhelming and as he delicately brushes his lips against yours, it’s enough to take you over the edge. You come around him violently, fingernails digging into his back as you pull him closer, and you can feel the sting of your own scratches in his back. It’s almost enough to make you drop your mental connection but suddenly he releases a raucous moan as he finds his own release, and everything happens at once. From inside his head, you can feel your own muscles clenching against him, pulling up and in, as if you don’t want to let him go. It’s immediately followed by his orgasm, but you’re already breathless and quivering from your own, and your vision literally goes white for a moment as you’re blinded by the sheer sensation coursing through you from your combined ten senses.

                Your hands drop to your sides as Kylo collapses on top of you, murmuring “ _fuck_ ” over and over and over again. You feel a giggle rise in your throat but you’re so breathless it comes out only as a frantic exhale for air. You feel completely and utterly spent, every muscle in your body aching, even your brain, which feels completely and totally numb, as though it had been again deposited back on the icy plains of Hoth. You try to speak, but even just pushing the air out of your chest seems like too much effort.

                _That was intense_ , you think at him. He lifts his head up slightly to regard you before he lowers his head back down against your chest.

                _Yes._ You hesitate for a moment, realizing that this might be the first time you’ve really heard his voice in your head, having a conversation.

                _Pillows?_ He lets out a loud groan that sounds almost boyish as he moves off of you, collapsing face-first down in the pillows at the top of the bed. You curl up against his side, draping one of your legs over his, and one of his hands find yours as he interlaces your fingers, pushing your palms together.

                _I love you_ , you think at him as you close your eyes. You slip into a tranquil sleep almost a second later, but right before you do, right as your mind is bordering on the edge between wakeful consciousness and idyllic dreams, you think you can just barely hear his voice in your head, echoing the same words you had said to him not a moment prior.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. First, I got to thank you all for all of your SNL-based comments yesterday; they were hilarious and I laughed at every single one of them. Bless you all, seriously. 
> 
> 2\. "It’s just a tiny red glow, way off in the distance, like a flare burning in the dark..." ROLL CREDITS.
> 
> 3\. “You know I can take whatever I want.” HE SAID THE THING. Now let's just hope our reader doesn't meet Rey later and get inside her head to see him say that to her. Man, that'd be super uncomfortable. >.>
> 
> 4\. "Sadie is no longer aboard the base." Now let's just hope our reader doesn't get inside Kylo's head during some Force training and see what transpired in Kylo's memory. Man, that'd be super uncomfortable. >.>


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW content ahead

                The Force training started almost immediately after that. You had no idea if Kylo had gotten his Leader’s permission to start training you or not, but it wasn’t as if you were ever really going to ask. Kylo had made it clear up front that you were not going to receive your own lightsaber, and you were fine with that. You had only seen one lightsaber in your lifetime, and that was his. You had no idea if they were all as hard to handle, or if it was just his that had such a temper. Although you suspected it was the latter, you were in no hurry to find out. Besides, you had your staff, and that was the only weapon you really needed. You had bashed yourself in the knees enough times the first time you had started playing with it, and you could only imagine the harm you would inflict upon yourself if you were actually given a lightsaber.

                About two weeks later, you’re sitting on his bed with him. You're sitting cross-legged about two feet apart, facing each other, as you go through your usual training exercises.

                “Just grab it,” Kylo tells you.

                You close your eyes and try to focus, but nothing comes. “I can’t.”

                “You can, just focus.” There’s a hint of irritation in his voice, and his irritation quickly becomes your frustration.

                “I can’t,” you say firmly. You open your eyes and glare down at your staff that lies contracted between the two of you. He sighs and rubs at his temple in agitation. As if to prove a point, he holds up his right hand and your staff immediately flies into it. He twirls it around in his fingers before he sets it back down on the bed between you. “Show-off,” you murmur.

                “It’s your staff,” he tells you. “You-”

                “Yeah, yeah, I should be able to grab it easily because of my attachment to it,” you tell him. “Only I _can’t_ because I’m unfocused because you’re distracted.”

                “I’m not distracted,” Kylo says smoothly, but he immediately looks away under your intense glare. At least now he knew what it felt like when everyone else gazed into that slit in his mask.

                “You’ve been fighting with Hux again,” you tell him.

                “Have not,” he replies.

                “Have too,” you snort. “You forget, I’m picking up impressions all the time now.”

                He sighs and rubs at his temple again, as if you’re physically depleting his energy. “I told you to keep the shield up.” _Shield_ had now replaced _wall_ in your vocabulary, because that’s effectively what you had been able to do. Taro had made a wall in your head that was steadfast and immovable, but you had managed to create a shield that you could cower behind at certain instances, such as when Kylo was trying to painfully probe your mind. He hadn’t forcibly tried to enter your mind at full strength ever since you moved in with him, and although he argued that he was, for training purposes, you could get into his head. You knew he wasn’t trying as hard as he could have. You knew he didn’t want to really hurt you if he could help it.

                Which is why it was curious that he never had a shield up around you. You could get into his head easily enough, and although you weren’t really powerful enough to pick up specific thoughts, the Force bond between you made it extremely easy to pick up impressions, moods and feelings. It had been stronger ever since the night when you had both fucked inside each other’s heads. You hadn’t done that since, it was too emotionally intense and physically draining, but the Force bond had been stronger from that point forward to the point that there was almost an invisible link tying you to him at all times. At first you had been afraid that he was going to resent you for being able to discern his moods with an uncanny sense of preciseness, but you had been unconsciously doing that since you had first met him. You supposed, one way or another, that your link to him had always been leading you slowly, but inevitably, in this direction.

                Even still, you assumed Kylo never kept a shield up around you because it kept him grounded. You could tell when he was distracted and or annoyed with Hux even when he wasn’t in the room because you would feel a twitch in the back of your brain, or a jerk in your leg, or a spasm in the muscles in your arms. It was like your body physically responded in small ways to his changes in moods. It was at those times that you did your best to stop what you were doing and center yourself, trying to meditate, trying to flood him with positive energy, or at least enough of a sense of calm to keep him grounded. You had no way to know if it worked or not, but judging by the way he seemed to kiss you and touch you when he got home after those days, you could tell that you had had at least some of an effect on him.

                Kylo snaps his fingers in front of your face and you blink, shaking your head to clear it. “I want to help,” you tell him. “I want to help keep you grounded and focused, if I can.”

                He just sighs and shakes his head. Even if he secretly liked it, it was not something he would ever admit to. “Try it again.”

                You close your eyes and concentrate on the staff in front of you. For a moment you don’t think it’s working, but suddenly you can feel the brush of the staff against your leg. You got excited for a moment, thinking that you were at least moving it a little bit, but when you open your eyes, you see Kylo leaning forward, pushing it towards you with one hand. He stops immediately, having the decency to flush and avert your eyes. “Ass,” you huff, picking up the staff and placing it back in the space between you.

                “I thought-”

                “Yeah, you thought if I thought it was working that I’d be able to do it,” you snap. “Please, have some faith in me.”

                “Have faith in the Force,” he reminds you, and you bite your lip for a moment before you close your eyes again.

                _Okay, Force, well if you’re real then-_

                The staff jumps into your palm almost instantly, and your eyes flick open. “You did that,” you yell at him. “You did that.”

                “I didn’t,” he says, but you lean forward and swat at the side of his arm anyway. You’re about to reach forward and hit him again when he catches your wrist in one large hand. He pushes you down onto the bed, immediately moving his chest over yours as he traps you beneath him.

                “You did that,” you insist, but you tilt your head up to plant a firm kiss on his lips anyway. He kisses you back slowly, softly, rubbing his nose against yours before he pulls away, pulling you into a seated position.

                “You did that,” he repeats. “Now let’s see you do it again.”

                “I’m distracted,” you tell him, feeling heat creeping into your cheeks.

                “Well, let’s see you do this, then,” he tells you. “And maybe I can help with that.”

                You bite your lip as you grin up at him, making no effort to conceal your blush. “Okay, fair enough. That’s enough incentive for me.” You adjust the staff in front of you and then hold out your hand to make sure you’re actually the one who is doing this. You hold your hand above the staff, fingers outstretched, stretching the skin on your palm taut. You start to feel a slight tingling sensation in the center of your palm that radiates outwards as you try to pull upwards, with your hand, then your mind, trying to mimic the sensation in your head of what it actually feels like to have the staff physically in your hand-

                It flies up suddenly and you just manage to close your fingers around it as it strikes your palm. “I did it,” you say excitedly as you look up, your thirst for him momentarily forgotten. “I really did it.” He pushes his lips together in a tight-lipped smile as he raises his eyebrows, watching you closely. You turn the staff over in your hands, as if in awe of yourself. “I really did it. So let’s see, I can move things with the Force now, I can get in your head, I can keep you out of my head, at least a little bit-” You look up at him. “Now I just need to learn how to do that Force Choke thing that you do.”

                For a moment, Kylo looks concerned, but he recovers himself quickly as he rolls his eyes. “That is something you will be unable to do.”

                “Why?” you ask, dropping the staff and crossing your arms over your chest. “Because I’m not powerful enough?”

                “Because that’s a dark side ability,” he tells you. “And you are not attuned to the dark side of the Force.”

                “I’m not?” you ask blankly, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I’m here, aren’t I? With the First Order?”

                “The First Order has nothing to do with the Force,” Kylo explains. “Dark side users draw their abilities from dark emotions, like fear, hatred, and anger. Light side users draw their power from-” Kylo makes an attempt to shrug, but his shoulders involuntarily shudder, as if the very thought of it makes him sick. “I don’t know, calmness. It’s used more for knowledge, for defense-”

                “Okay, I don’t know where you’ve been, but I’m pretty sure my powers are coming from the dark side,” you insist. “I mean, as much as I don’t want to recall how angry I was a few weeks ago, I was pretty angry, and I drew a lot of power from focusing on my anger. And the only time I was even able to use the Force push was when I was really angry at you for choking Ladson; that’s the only time I was able to use it.”

                “That’s because you were feeding off my energy,” Kylo tells you, but you’re still not too sure. “Think about right now. You were able to summon the staff into your hand, which requires a significant amount of control and power. Were you angry now?”

                “No,” you sulk. It wasn’t that you _wanted_ to be on the dark side, per say, but you just wanted to know how to defend yourself, and perhaps learning how to Force Choke someone was a part of that. You knew Phasma would probably disagree, but hadn’t Ladson once told you that the best defense was a good offense? “I mean, does it have to be that black and white? Dark side and light side? Can’t I be somewhere in the middle? Can’t I just be like, gray?”

                Kylo just shakes his head, not answering your question, as he looks away from you. You can tell there’s a story here, and you want to ask what it is, but you know it might just cause an argument and things had been so good between you two lately that you didn’t even want to bother. His past didn’t matter to you. All that mattered was how he treated you now. “I’m just going to ask,” you say after a moment. “Is there a whole like, philosophy to this whole dark side, light side thing? Like, do they each have their own separate schools of thought?”

                “More than you know,” he replies curtly.

                “And people who are on the light side,” you venture. “If someone studies the light side of the Force, they’re called a Jedi, right?” Kylo purses his lips together but raises an eyebrow, still not looking at you. “B told us that a Force-sensitive trooper escaped to the Resistance and they were training him as a Jedi.” The corner of Kylo’s lip twitches, and you decide not to press your line of inquiry any further. “Sorry, forget I asked.”

                “These are not things you need to concern yourself with,” Kylo says simply. For a moment he looks way too calm, and that’s when you realize you’ve been inadvertently holding up a shield between yourself and him, preventing any negative emotions from slipping through. You lower it, slowly, and it’s like lifting a heavy canvas curtain, allowing all sorts of new emotions to leak through. The first one you feel is a pure and unrefined hatred for someone you don’t even know, followed by Kylo’s rage, which has by now become all too familiar to you, which is followed by-

                Kylo can sense that the connection between you has opened up to full strength again, as he leans over and pushes your shoulders down on the bed, moving his body over yours as he presses his lips into the hollow where your neck meets your jawline. While he’s distracted, you take a minute and position your right hand in the air, just above him. _Force choke, force choke, force choke…_

But you’re not angry, and nothing happens, so you contentedly slip your hands into Kylo’s dark locks as you kiss him back. You gently slide your hands to either side of his head, palms against his temples, and he stiffens, but only for a moment. “What are you doing?”

                “Nothing,” you reply simply as you continue to kiss him, picking up the intensity by arching your back against the bed and pushing your chest against his. He growls, low in his throat, and his hand immediately comes to your waist, fingertips brushing against your warm skin just underneath the hem of your shirt. You close your eyes and focus, knowing that the times when you were intimate together was one of the easiest times to get into his head.

                You suspect he knows that as well, as he pulls away slightly, his lips hovering just above yours. “What do you want to see?”

                “I don’t know.” You try to shrug, but you can’t really with the way he’s holding you. “Anything.” He looks unsure now, and you absolutely hate that look. You love it when he looks focused, confident, and in control of himself. “You’re strong enough to keep me from seeing anything you don’t want me to see.”

                “Fair enough,” he relents, but his hot breath against your face is intoxicating, and you kiss him for a little while longer, in absolutely no hurry to break the distance between you.

                “I know,” you tell him, eventually pulling away slightly. “Let me see the time you rescued Sadie.”

                His body immediately tenses. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

                “Why not?” You tilt your head to the side so you can appraise him better. “I mean, you saved her. It’s your big defining heroic moment for me.”

                “I’m not a hero,” Kylo snaps, and you take this moment while he’s distracted to roll your hips to the side and throw yours legs over his, straddling him on the bed so that he’s pinned beneath you. Hands on either side of his head, you try to focus, keeping his shoulders pinned with your elbows so he can’t get easy access to your thoughts. He probably could get in without touching you, but it was just so much easier that way. It was like once you pressed your fingers against someone’s temple, their mind became like a filing cabinet, full of memories that you could pick and choose from, as simple as flipping pages through a magazine.

                “Sadie,” you say firmly, closing your eyes, and the name immediately stirs a memory within him. It’s emotionally charged, so it comes to the forefront of his mind immediately, but he puts up a shield there, preventing you from getting any closer. “Try as you might, I’m getting in,” you tell him. You had tried to get around Kylo’s shields before while just practicing, but this didn’t feel like practice all of a sudden. It felt like Kylo had some sort of memory concealed that he didn’t want you to see, and it had to do with Sadie. Ladson’s distrust of him immediately comes to your mind and for a moment you’re worried that you’re defining moment of love for him was nothing more than you being manipulated yet again. If he really had saved Sadie, why didn’t he want you to see it?

                You close your eyes. Sadie was your friend, your best friend, your sister, and although the last few times you had seen her you had sparred with bitter, resentful words, it didn’t change how you felt about her. She was yours to protect, and you were going to do everything in your power to make sure she got off this base safely. Right now, the only thing you could do to confirm that she was safe was by getting in Kylo’s head.

                Slowly, slowly, you begin to overwhelm him. Suddenly it’s as if you’re on the other side of the wall, pounding at the bricks that he’s trying to keep in place. _Let_ _them all come down_ , you think to yourself, and suddenly you push hard, with your fingertips, with your mind, not pulsing like Kylo so frequently did, but throwing yourself at him in one complete burst of energy. You feel him slip backwards, and at first you think you’ve actually physically knocked him backwards, but he’s lying on his back on the bed and there is nowhere else for him to go. That’s when you realize that the shield is down and he is vulnerable, exposed.

                Emotions are the first thing that drip into your senses, before you can even see anything. First, you feel pity, then an awkward form of discomfort that isn’t quite like anything you’ve ever felt before. Then a hint of sadness, then anger, rage, Kylo’s rage in all of its unhinged fury, and you can feel his hands on the hilt of his lightsaber, although you can’t see anything. You focus harder, trying to get in, trying to see what Kylo is keeping from you. You feel the pull of the muscles in his arms as he swings his lightsaber out as if it was your own and for a moment you see it, the red flash of the blade, as Sadie flinches and looks away.

                You’re about to pull away when you hear it, so faint, as if it’s coming from the end of a long tunnel, but you can recognize Kylo’s angry shouting when you hear it. “ _You’re right. I am a dark, twisted, loathsome person. She has no idea what I am, and she’s never going to know.”_ It doesn’t take you more than a second to realize that he’s talking about you, and you quickly drop your hands.

                “Kylo, what’s going on?” you ask quietly. There’s an edge to your voice that you don’t think he’s ever heard from you before, as his dark eyes are large and sincere as they look up at you. He looks almost scared in this position, vulnerable, and it’s the first time you think you’ve ever seen him like this. You put a hand on his chest to help you focus and it’s not just the rapid drum of his heartbeat underneath your fingertips that concerns you. You can also feel the emotions coursing through you and for a moment, all you feel is fear, the kind that makes the narrow hairs on your arms stand on end as it cloaks your palms with sweat.

                You reach down and kiss him, hard, hands pressed against the side of his face to try to dispel this new emotion that’s coursing through you because his fear has suddenly become your own, and while he’s scared that you’re going to leave him, suddenly you’re just as scared that he’s going to leave you. Both of his large hands wrap around your back, pressing you to him, and for a moment you want nothing more than to lose yourself in him, to be comforted by him, but you just can’t allow that to happen, not right now, not when you don’t know what is going on.

                “Show me,” you say softly, sitting up again. “What did you do, Kylo?”

                Kylo sulks, turning his head to the side so he doesn’t have to look at you. “I didn’t want you to see that,” he says after a moment. “I got angry, I-”

                “Show me.” Your hands find their way to his temple and you close your eyes, letting the memory start almost immediately. This time, Kylo makes no attempt to hold you back as you watch the scene play out in front of you.

                “You’re right.” You can hear the rage in Kylo’s voice, and it scares you through the memory. He holds his blade out in front of him, gesturing with it menacingly. “You’re right, I am a dark, loathsome, twisted person. She has no idea what I am, and she’s never going to know. She’s never going to know how I killed you, how I disposed of your body in a trash heap somewhere. No one will know, and no one will care. All I have to do is tell her that I helped you escape, and she is so blinded by her feelings for me, that she’ll believe whatever I tell her. She’ll think I’m a hero, and she’ll never know that I murdered her sister in cold blood.”

                “Can you live with that?” Sadie had asked. Her voice had stayed surprisingly level, but you could still sense her fear. “You’ve killed scores of people, I’m sure, but can you continue to go to bed and fuck her every night when you know what you’ve done? Can you really touch her with my blood on your hands? Are you really that evil?”

                Kylo said nothing, but you could feel the prick of rage as he swung out with his lightsaber towards her. You could see the red flash of the blade in her eyes as she flinched and looked away.

                You drop your hands, not letting the memory continue. “There’s more,” Kylo says, but you can’t. You literally can’t. Mentally, you wouldn’t be able to keep up the connection.

                “Ladson was right.” A part of you knew you shouldn’t invoke his name, lest he meet the same fate as Sadie, but right now you couldn’t help yourself. “He was right. There was no ship. You never helped her escape. You-” Your blood runs cold as you realize what that meant. “You killed her. And all this time, I’ve just been sitting here, fucking you, telling you I-” You glance up at him, but you have to look away. You didn’t just tell him that you loved him, you _did_ love him. You loved the man that killed your sister.

                Your heart starts beating so fast you think it might burst out of your chest. You feel like a trapped animal. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, and you had gotten used to it now, but now you're suddenly wondering if you could maybe use a chair or maybe even the Force to crack the glass window outside to escape that way when Kylo speaks, perhaps reading your thoughts. “Stop.”

                He grabs both of your hands in his, and even though you don’t pull away, the gesture is revolting. “You could still touch me after that?” you ask quietly. “After you killed her?”

                “I didn’t kill her,” Kylo snaps. You look up at him again and he looks almost embarrassed with himself, but he’s no longer afraid.

                “You didn’t kill her.” Your tone is flat. “Then what the hell did I just see then?”

                “I lost control,” he says firmly. “But I didn’t kill her. You need to see the rest.”   

                “Sadie-” You manage weakly, not looking at him. _Are you really that evil?_ Why had she taunted him? Why did she goad him on? Had she stopped caring about her life that much? Had she become that jaded after Hux’s torment? It didn’t matter what she did, though. It didn’t matter what she had said to him. This wasn’t her fault. Kylo knew she was emotionally wrecked from everything she had been through, and yet he had still allowed himself to become incensed.

                “I didn’t kill her,” Kylo repeats, pushing his lips against yours. You just bow your head and let your forehead sink into his shoulder as Kylo sighs with exasperation. “Just _look._ I threatened her, yes, but that’s _all_ I did.”

                “I saw the-”

                “ _Look.”_ Kylo is angry now, with you, and something about it slowly brings you out of your stupor as you look up at him.

                “You really didn’t kill her?” you ask hesitantly.

                “Look,” Kylo repeats, guiding your fingertips back up to his temple. You pause for a moment before you reach forward and press your lips against his, trying to help reestablish the connection. You feel the pad of his thumb run against your cheek as you slowly pull away, sucking on his bottom lip as you do so.

                “I trust you,” you tell him. Kylo was a great many evil things to a great many people, but he wasn’t like that to you. And Sadie was an extension of you. He had lost his control, but there was no way that he had hurt her. You had faith in him. He wouldn’t let you down.

                You close your eyes and for a moment you don’t see anything. You just see darkness around you. Suddenly, the red flash of the lightsaber glows in front of your field of vision, and you can hear Sadie cry out in pain. The sound makes your blood run cold, and you’re about to pull away again when Kylo puts his hands over yours, keeping you steady. You hear something else now, the dissonant clash of metal on metal, the sound of a chain link breaking. The glow of his lightsaber vanishes, and you can hear Kylo let out a stifled breath.

                “Bastard,” you hear Sadie hiss, and your heart immediately drops with relief. “You, you-” Suddenly the image of Sadie comes into view, holding the side of her neck. “You almost killed me.”

                “I had to remove the collar,” Kylo says simply, as he bends down to put his helmet back on.

                “You could have broken the chain,” Sadie replies. “Or there had to have been a key-”

                “I don’t have time for this,” Kylo responds. He walks over to her and grabs her by the chin with one gloved hand, forcing her head to the side. There is a large mark running down the side of her neck where her tender skin had been burned between the lightsaber and the metal as he burned the collar off, but she was alive. You got the distinct feeling that he knew you would _not_ be happy to know he burned her, possibly scarred her forever, but it doesn’t take him more than a moment for him to put his gloved hand to the side of her head to make her fall unconscious. He bends down and picks her up in both arms as he turns and carries her out of the room.

                That’s all you need to see. You pull your hand away from him, lowering it slowly. “Why didn’t you just show me all that to begin with?” you ask quietly.

                “I didn’t know how you would _react_ ,” he responds, not meeting your eyes.

                “Because you threatened to kill her?” you ask. “I mean, to be fair, I’ve threatened to kill you too. And I probably meant it more than you did.”

                “I meant it,” Kylo says quietly, meeting your eyes. “I wanted to kill her. It would have been so much easier to kill her, to just dispose of her body, and you would never have had to know. I would never have had to deal with all of that shit from Hux.”

                You can’t help but snort as you look down. Kylo doesn’t look like he’s laughing, but you can’t help it. “Well you burned her collar off with your lightsaber, so it’s pretty obvious to figure out who did it. If you had just cut the chain or something-”

                He shakes his head. “He would have known it was me.”

                “Because of me,” you reply sullenly, remembering what he had said to you before. “Because of me. Because I’m a weakness.”

                “You’re not a weakness,” Kylo says so firmly, so suddenly, that it almost makes you fall off the bed even though you’re not even sitting near the edge. You don’t ask him what he means, you don’t have time to, because at this moment Kylo is pushing you down onto the bed, pushing himself on top of you, desperate to feel your lips against his.

                You kiss him back with hot, fervent kisses, running your hands through his hair. You tangle your legs with his and push him off of you, just for a moment, as you lie side by side together, pulling down his black pants to free his erection. You put your mouth around him, teasing his tip with the groove of your tongue. Kylo moans and lies back, his large hand fisting in your hair as you push your mouth down over his length, bobbing your head up and down as you suck with your lips. You pull up, gently, flicking his hood with the tip of your tongue.

                You have no idea how you’re always so wet for him so quickly, but you slide off your shorts as you sit down on top of him, groaning as you can feel him filling you. Kylo just leans his head back and moans slightly, but makes no attempt to get on top of you. You take advantage of the position to put your hands on his chest as you move up and down agonizingly slowly, taunting him as he once taunted you. He whimpers slightly, his eyes shut, and the sound brings a smirk to your lips as you pull up slowly, slowly, before crashing your hips back down against his. Kylo just bites his lip and lets you use him for your own pleasure a few times before you bow your head and start to really grind against him, getting a steady rhythm going as you fuck yourself with his cock. Kylo runs a hand absent-mindedly through your hair, stroking it and pulling it out of your face as you try to keep a consistent, rapid rhythm going. Still, you notice he doesn’t seem as into it as he usually is, and although he’s too tall for you to reach up and whisper in his ear without pulling off of him completely, you still try to get as close as you can. “Is this okay?”

                “I would do _anything_ for you,” he tells you, his eyes still closed, and for a minute you’re not sure if the desperation that has been radiating off of him is connected to his lust or something else entirely. Nevertheless, he seems to feel your confusion as he tries to flip you over, but you hold firm, intent on finishing what you started.

                It doesn’t take long, and you immediately find your release after he finds his, turned on by the sensation of him losing himself inside of you. You collapse down on his chest, relishing the sensation of his cock twitching inside of you. You don’t pull out, not right away. You just lie there as you realize that this is the first time that he’s let you fuck him, the first time you’ve come on top of him. You want to tell him that you love him, but he already knows that.

                You close your eyes and concentrate. He seems weak right now, vulnerable and exposed, and you wonder for a moment if you really did hear him telling you that he loved you before he drifted off to sleep all those weeks ago. Slowly, you lift yourself off of him and ignore the juices dripping against your inner thigh as you curl up beside him, pressing your lips against his. He’s so close to you now, and not just physically. Even though you're just lying there, curled up in the circle of his arm, it feels almost as though this is the closest you've ever been to him since you've known him. 

                “So you’ll do anything for me?” you ask gently, running the pad of your index finger down across the bump of his lower lip. His eyes still shut, his head bobs forward in a series of quick little nods. “So, does that mean that you’ll teach me how to do the Force Choke?”

                He lets out a snort of laughter through his nose, and a grin spreads to your own lips as he leans forward to kiss you, his fingers running through your hair as he moves to cradle the back of your neck in his hands. 

                “That wasn’t a no,” you tell him as he pulls away.

                “Stop talking,” he whispers gently as he plants a firm kiss against your temple and snuggles himself in beside you. You cuddle yourself against him, burying your face in the crook between his neck and his shoulder as you close your eyes and think. He really did save Sadie, and you can see now why he didn’t want you to access that memory. He could have killed her, easily. He wanted to kill her. He didn’t want to save her; in fact, every emotion coursing through him told him to do the opposite. And yet he had. The scariest part of all was when Sadie asked him if he could fuck you every night with her blood on his hands. He could have, he really could. His hands were stained with blood, and yet, he knew that  _you_ were counting on him, and he couldn’t let you down. He couldn’t disappoint you, and it was his feelings for you that led him to saving her life.

                It was by no means redemption. It wasn’t the start of a new course. He did what he did because he was selfish, because he wanted to keep you, because he knew that he would lose you if he had killed her. But that didn’t take away from the fact that he had still saved someone’s life when he wanted to kill them. One good deed hardly erased a lifetime of sins, but it wasn’t as though there was anyone out there, actually weighing the scales. He had fought against his own urges and saved her life to show that he did care about you, to show you that he could put you above his own dark influences.

                You weren’t sure what that meant for him. You could be sure that there was probably some good in him, some glimmer of light that he was trying to smother and snuff out with all of the darkness. You didn’t know, but that wasn’t your battle. It was not your job to save him from himself. It was not your job to clear away the darkness and bring him towards the light, especially not when you didn’t know how much light you had within yourself. Now that you felt like you had a good sense of where you stood when you weren’t being influenced by Kylo’s temper, you didn’t think that you could really kill someone, not even a Storm Trooper. Even though they all wore those helmets, they were still _people_ under there, people you might have interpreted for at one point or another, and you couldn’t even think of bringing yourself to end their life. It just wasn’t something you had in you.

                So you would never be as dark as he was, nor would he ever be as light as you were. But maybe you could both exist in that fragile balance between light and dark. Maybe you could both be gray, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, it finally happened. We finally got ONE chapter of basically fluff. It was all too cute for me, but I figured you guys earned it. There was cuteness, there was fluff, there was smut, and we've established that Kylo really wanted to kill Sadie but didn't!! Hooray....ish??
> 
> And for the inquiring minds that want to know, yes, I have been working on the sequel for quite some time now (I wrote the epilogue to this story on Feb 1 and then went back in and wrote chapter 22 - end) and I actually had a cool idea for the sequel that I couldn't pull off myself so I tapped into my IRL connections - I can't give any details because he does NOT want his professional reputation to be traced back to a Kylo Ren smut story in any way - but please know that I have an interview with a guy and I'm kinda freaking out about it but it's going to be seriously amazing and I think you all are going to love it!! (But unfortunately you're going to have to wait until Chapter 8 of the sequel to get any sort of idea as to what I'm talking about xD) Until tomorrow, cheers!!


	30. Chapter 30

                You’re sprawled across his bed in a particularly lethargic mood when Kylo returns that night. He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his massive chest as he looks down at you. “So remember how I said I would do anything for you?”

                You roll over onto your back and look up at him upside down, as your head dangles off the edge of the bed. The tips of your hair are just gracing the top of the carpet, but you pay it no mind. “Is this a sex thing?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

                “It could be,” he says with good humor in his voice as he comes around to sit on the bed beside you. You run your fingers over his forearm absent-mindedly as you wait for him to continue. “You don’t have to stay here anymore.”

                “Stay here?” you repeat, pulling yourself into a seated position. “What do you mean I don’t have to stay here? I want to stay with you, I-”

                “I mean you’re no longer a prisoner here,” he explains. “You don’t have to stay locked in here all day.”

                “Oh,” you say quietly, glancing down and away.

                You can hear his quiet chuckle, and it slowly draws your eyes back up to his face. “Of course, I do appreciate that you want to-”

                You press your lips against his to stop him from talking. “Nowhere else I’d rather be,” you say simply as you pull away from him. “But seriously, if I have free run of the base, does that mean I’m expected to do something?”

                “You don’t have free run of the base,” he corrects you. “In fact, you’ll be escorted wherever you go.”

                “Fantastic,” you murmur under your breath.

                “But I spoke to Captain Phasma." He takes a deep breath in and lets it out. “And you are allowed to return to your self-defense classes, should you wish to do so.”

                Your face drops immediately. “Does that mean I don’t get to spar with you anymore?”

                He tilts his head to the side. “No, it-”

                “Does that mean you’re going to be gone more?” you press. “Like, are you going away again? Because it feels like you just got back.”

                He pushes a small smile to his face as he brushes your hair out of your face. “I thought this would please you.”

                You bite your lip and take a moment to process this. “It does,” you say softly. “I guess I’m just waiting for there to be a catch.”

                His smile suddenly turns sad as he strokes your cheek with his thumb. “You’ve been locked in here alone for far too long.” To tell the truth, you were getting sort of restless staying in here day in and day out, but you thought you had kept the shield up and were doing a good job keeping your negative thoughts out of his reach. Apparently not. If he was actually doing something about it, it probably meant that your melancholy had started to impact him, although you couldn’t be sure if that was something that was altogether beneficial.

                “And I have nothing to fear from Hux?” you ask nervously, and Kylo just shakes his head. “Okay, I mean, no, this is good.” You nod quickly, as if trying to confirm this to yourself. “I get it. I get what you’re trying to do. You want me to be comfortable here. I mean-” You shrug half-heartedly. “You know I’m not going to try to escape now. You trust me, so this is good.”

                He hesitates, looking you over, studying your face. “You don’t look so sure.”

                “It’s weird,” you tell him after a minute. “I mean, I just, I never really thought that Starkiller Base would become my home. But you’re here, and Ladson’s here, and Phasma’s sort of my friend. I don’t know, I never really thought about making a life for myself here but I guess I could.” Your eyes skirt to his. “With you.” He looks sufficiently uncomfortable and you quickly look away again. “I mean, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

                But he presses his lips to yours to prevent you from talking this time, and your hands grab at his shoulders, pulling him down on top of you, trying to figure out what this meant. You could see the big picture here. He was giving you clearance to at least go back to your self-defense classes, but that was just the first step. Soon the escorts would stop and you would be free to maneuver around the ship on your own. Would he give you a job after that? What could you really do on the Starkiller Base? You didn’t want to do menial labor, but at the same time, if it would help you meet new people and break up the monotony of your days, then did it really matter what you did?

                “You’re thinking too much,” Kylo observes as he pulls away from you slightly.

                “I just, I don’t know.” You shrug, still uncomfortable. “Like I said, I just never thought I’d be spending the rest of my life on the Starkiller Base.”

                “If it means anything, I doubt you'll be spending the rest of your life _here_ ,” Kylo emphasizes. “This is just a military installation. There may come a time when we will move our operations elsewhere.”

                “Oh,” you say, thinking it over. “Then, I don’t know, I never really expected to be spending the rest of my life with you.” Kylo looks at you, as if waiting for you to withdraw or apologize for your previous statement, but you don’t. It hangs in the air, floating between you like some dark, intangible cloud. “If you moved bases, you would take me with you, right?”

                “Yes,” he says immediately, and it brings a smile to your lips. You knew it was probably dangerous to have this conversation when Kylo hadn’t even told that you he loved you yet, but you couldn’t help it. You loved him, and if you were no longer a prisoner here, then that meant you were staying with him of your own volition. Wasn’t that what he had wanted? You decide to test those waters a bit.

                “I mean, self-defense classes are good and all, but what about flying a ship?” you ask. “I mean, just in case I wanted to tour the galaxy or something, can I get piloting lessons too?” He narrows his eyes at you and you blush as you look away. “Fair enough. Trapped on the Starkiller Base I shall remain.”

                “Not trapped,” he says firmly, and you reach up and brush your nose against his.

                “Not trapped,” you repeat. “But if I am taking self-defense classes, maybe we should spar a little more. You know, make sure I’m in good shape before I head down there. I don’t want to get my ass kicked.”

                “I sincerely doubt that will happen,” Kylo says, but he rolls off the bed regardless as you head over to the other side of the room, turning to face him. Suddenly, you thrust your right arm out in the air and wait for it, wait for it-

                Your staff comes hurtling out of your crate into your ready hands. You hold it out at an angle against your body, not hitting the button, but mentally using the Force to will it to expand to its full length. It does, completing the entire sequence in one fluid motion. Kylo just shakes his head but you can’t help yourself. You let out a little jump, heels slamming into your butt as you hold your staff out in front of you with both hands. “I did it,” you squeal. “I did it. I am such a _badass_.”

                “We’ll see,” Kylo says. He wastes no time taking a step towards you, and that’s when his staff flies at you from across the opposite wall and you drop and roll, avoiding them both. The staff finds Kylo’s hand and he grins wickedly as he appraises you. You slowly circle each other, both of your staffs at the ready. “Ready?”

                “Born ready,” you reply simply as you get ready to spar. Kylo steps forward and brings his staff down in an uppercut, but you’re ready for him. Legs spread and knees bent, you have no trouble holding up your staff in both hands, one hand locked on either side of your staff, as he brings his staff down in the center of yours. Your arms recoil slightly at the impact, but you hold steady. You slowly slide your staff down his before pulling back slightly, trying to thrust forward with your staff to knock him off balance, but he easily tips his staff back and blocks you, the bottom of his staff again striking against the dead center of yours.

                You immediately pull back and twist your body, sliding your hands down but keeping your palms facing in opposite directions as you swing your staff towards his. He echoes the motion and your two staffs collide, making a large X-shape in the air. You’re not strong enough to push him, so you keep your balance and play defensively, waiting for him to make the next move. Suddenly, he takes a quick step back and drops the staff horizontally to one side of his body, as if holding a pool cue, staff held between his thumb and forefinger to allow better mobility. You quickly step back, foot over foot over foot, as you push your staff out vertically in front of you, blocking his horizontal thrust. The base of your staff hits the tip of his with a clank as it pushes it out to the side, away from you.

                “Good move,” he breathes, and you let a cocky smile float to your lips. Inspired by his compliment, you decide to get a little dramatic and grab your staff in one hand, spinning figure eights first on the left side of your body and then your right, going back and forth with this motion as you take a few steps backward, trying to put some more distance between you. Kylo rolls his eyes but echoes your movement. His spins are a lot faster and smoother than yours, as he twirls the staff around in his long fingers and steps towards you instead of away.

                Finally, your back is at the wall and you have nowhere else to go, and you strike towards him in a slanted uppercut, which he easily blocks, again forming a large X-shape in the air with your two crossed staffs.  This time, he uses his weight to push the tip of both staffs into the carpet, still crossed, although yours is underneath his. You don’t have time to do anything with it; however, as he rapidly picks up his staff as he leans back and twirls it forward at a horizontal angle. You immediately duck, almost but not quite falling onto your knees, as you can feel the top of his staff just skirt over the hair on the top of your head.

_Okay, too close._

                He doesn’t give you time to recover. He crosses his right foot deftly behind his left as he bends his legs and steeps into an almost-bow, trying to hit you again in a low strike. At first you think you can block it, but you see the force coming in behind the blow and you immediately jump as high as you can, pulling your knees into your chest. You land with your legs in a wide stance, but Kylo again doesn’t give you any time to respond as he thrusts his staff out horizontally towards you, aiming for your right shoulder, and it’s all you can do to bring your staff up and across your body in a vertical block to push it out of the way. 

                “Okay, enough,” you say quickly. “Enough or I’m not going to have a long life left.” Kylo doesn’t say anything, but he simply twists the corner of his mouth up in a triumphant smile. “Oh, come on, you don’t have to be so cocky. It was obvious you were going to win that.”

                “But I didn’t hit you,” he notes.

                “So, what, you want to call this a draw?” you ask, eyebrows raised. “The great Kylo Ren will admit that he lost to a girl in her pajamas?”

                “I didn’t lose if it’s a draw,” Kylo says, although his voice is a little stiff. You love taunting him, or better yet, you love watching him try to control himself after your taunts. You don’t mean anything by it, and he knows you don’t, and yet his ego is so sensitive anyway.

                “So do I get some sort of special prize for winning?” you ask, goading him on.

                “You didn’t _win_ ,” he insists.

                “Not yet,” you say, lowering your stance as you bring your staff to the back of his knees. He just manages to bring his staff around to block it in time, but you can tell by the expression on his face that that was a close one, and he had not seen that coming.

                “Fight me or fuck me,” you offer, biting your lip to make the offer as suggestive as possible.

                “Both,” he decides. You continue to spar for a few more minutes until he literally knocks the staff out of your hands. You catch his with both hands and wrestle it out of his grip, tossing it to the side. With no weapons left, it’s just your hands, and you know exactly what to do with those.

 

                Two days later, you head off to self-defense class a bit earlier than usual. You know it’s not going to be the same without Sadie or Ladson, but you hope that you might possibly see Shayne there. You don’t really have any sort of plan to help him escape if you do, and you doubt that you’ll even see him, but you can’t help but wonder what happened to him. Regardless, you follow the Storm Trooper outside your door through the corridors as you head towards the training room.

                “Well, look who it is,” Captain Phasma says as you walk in. She eyes the purple marks on your neck that you have since stopped trying to conceal. “How have you been faring?”  

                “Well,” you reply happily. “I’ve really managed to make some good progress with that staff you gave me. I almost beat Kylo- I mean, Ren- with it yesterday.”

                She fixes you with her steely gaze as she screws up the corner of her mouth, appraising you. “I’m sure.”

                “I did,” you insist, unable to conceal a laugh. “Although he might not have been going full strength on me.”

                She tilts her head to the side as if considering this. “Fair,” she relents. “So are you ready to lead today’s lesson?”

                “Lead?” you practically shout at her. “What do you mean by lead?”

                “Lead,” she repeats. “Did Ren not tell you?” You curse petulantly under your breath, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’ll take that as a no.”

                “What am I supposed to do?” you ask her, your voice bordering on frantic. “I’m not a leader. I can’t lead. I can’t even yell.”

                “Try it,” Phasma encourages. “Say something; be bold and commanding.”

                “Like what?” you ask her. There’s only a few people milling about in the gym, but you still don’t want to make an ass of yourself if you don’t have to. After all, people knew how close you were to Kylo Ren, and that meant you had a reputation to maintain. 

                Phasma yells. “All right, listen up.” Immediately, everyone in the gym is silenced by her booming voice. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “Go back to your business.” And just as quickly, the murmurs of quiet conversation start again. It wasn’t just that she was loud; she commanded respect in her tone. “All right, now you try.”

                “I don’t want to do this,” you warn her. She gives you a look and gestures for you to try. “All right, listen up,” you shout, but your voice comes out as more of a cross between a shriek and a bellow, and people look up, but more to figure out what the _hell_ that sound was.

                “That was absolutely pitiful,” Phasma informs you. “Try it again, just not as _loud_ this time. Be firm.”

                “Right,” you say, sucking in a breath. You turn to a group of about four or five people off to her right. “Hey, you there, listen up.” They turn to you, acknowledging your command, but they don’t stop talking. If anything, they probably only humored you because you were standing right next to Phasma. For some reason, the thought angers you. You may not have had her rank, but didn’t they know who you were? Didn’t your relationship to Kylo Ren give you any status at all?

                “I said listen up,” you snap, and you raise one hand in the air without even realizing it. One of the people closest to you trips and falls backwards suddenly, taking everyone else down with them. Your shoulders rise and fall with your breaths, and you just _know_ in the back of your mind that Kylo felt that.

                That was not a conversation you were looking forward to having tonight.

                Phasma turns back to you, eyebrows raised. If you’re not mistaken, she looks almost a little alarmed, but not put off completely. “Please do not use that in here.”

                “Sorry,” you say quickly. “But it got them to listen, didn’t it?”

                “Fair.” She tilts her head to the side in consideration. “But please remember that these people work in auxiliary roles. They don’t have daily contact with Ren, if at all. All they hear of him are rumors, and they don’t know who you are, nor do I believe they really know what the Force is.”

                “Noted,” you say. “But that’s fair. Now I can learn to be scary in my own right, instead of just scary based on his reputation.”

                “Scary?” She raises an eyebrow. “You want to be scary?”

                “Not scary,” you tell her. “Tough. A badass. I want people to jump when I say their names. I want to command respect, and, and attention, and- _why are you laughing?”_

“I can see a great deal of his influence has rubbed off on you,” she says, bursting into another fit of laughter. “I’m sorry, but it’s very cute.” You cross your arms over your chest and stand with your legs spread wide, back straight, trying to make yourself seem taller. You glare at her, lips pulled tightly over your teeth in a scowl. “Better.”

                You sigh and drop your arms, leaning forward at your waist. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

                “Not a mistake,” Phasma replies. “If Ren wanted you to be here, then he obviously thought that you had the potential to do it, right?”

                You don’t want to smile, not at all, but you can’t help but let one slip as you think about how impressed he was by you. You feel a blush come over your cheeks and you just stare at Phasma, mentally willing her not to laugh again. “Not a word.”

                “None,” she says simply. “So, how about this? For the first week, just watch me. Follow my lead, and then next week I will let you start to take over. All right?”

                “I think I can do that,” you tell her. Your palms feel sweaty and you almost want to run and hide. You had sometimes previously interpreted in large settings where you knew other people were watching you, but they just saw your hands moving, and most there didn’t know what it meant, so it took the pressure off. Additionally, the words that you were saying weren’t yours, they were someone else’s, so you were never called upon to make decisions or be significant in your own right.

                But that part of your life was behind you now. Now you were going to have to stand up and lead people, and yes, even though it was just a bunch of non-essential personnel on a military installation, it was still a step in the right direction. Maybe Kylo was training you to be a leader so that you could one day rule the galaxy beside him. You had never wanted to rule. You had always wanted to be invisible; you had thought so the first day that you had met Kylo Ren. Heck, you had even wanted to be invisible when Phasma had first called you up to use you as a model subject in your first self-defense class. But maybe this was a change for you. And maybe it was time to embrace the changes happening to you, around you, and accept your new circumstances as the start of a new life on the Starkiller Base.

                You see more people start filing into the gym, and you see Phasma watching them, getting ready to make the announcement to line up. Instead, you stand up next to her, putting your hands on your hips as you suck air deep into your diaphragm. “Okay, we don’t have a lot of time today, let’s get a move on. Line up, people, come on.”

                The people closest to you immediately look up at you, their brows knotting together in confusion. They don’t know who you are, but there’s authority in your voice and you’re standing beside Phasma, so at least that much warrants their attention. Still, people start to line up, and Phasma turns her head to look down at you. “See, they’ll listen.”

                It was then that you decided that you wouldn’t earn their respect; you would command it. You weren’t sure how, and you were sure you couldn’t do it by sure force or intimidation alone. After all, you were _not_ Kylo Ren, but you had your own way of getting things done. When everyone was practicing drills, you went up to each person, introducing yourself by name, never once hinting at your affiliation with Kylo Ren. You recognized a few people as regulars, but none seemed to really remember you as you asked each of them their names, their professions, why they were here, and what they hoped to learn. You critiqued their form during drills, again served as a model for Phasma without showing the least bit of fear or reluctance, and then sparred with each of them in turn, making sure to hold nothing back as you smacked them onto the mat, letting them know that you were not one to be reckoned with.

                “I think that went well,” Phasma says after your first day. You can’t be sure if she’s being sarcastic or not, but there’s still people in the training room, so you just cross your arms over your chest and nod noncommittally, surveying the room with your eyes. Having power was fun, you decided, even if it was only over a small group of expendable people. Even still, maybe if you played your part here well, there would be room for a promotion. You had never been an ambitious person before, but maybe your bond with Kylo was allowing him to influence you more than you had previously thought.

                And as long as you allowed yourself to be influenced by the positive aspects of Kylo’s character, you saw nothing wrong with that at all. You would have to try to find a way to spend more time with Ladson to keep yourself in check, to make sure you weren’t losing a sense of who you truly were, but you weren’t too concerned. You just had to have confidence in yourself. You would figure this out. No matter what happened, you had always seemed to be able to rely on yourself, and this was no different. You wanted to rescue Sadie, and you rescued Sadie. You wanted to see Ladson, and you saw Ladson. You _wanted_ Kylo Ren, and, guess what? You got him.

                You stand with your arms folded across your chest as you watch everyone leave the room. You would have their respect, maybe not in a week, maybe not in a month, but give it enough time, and they would come to regard you the same way they regarded Phasma, with a submissive sense of obedience as they scurried to carry out whatever order she commanded. You were a patient person, and it didn’t matter to you how long it took for them to obey, only that they did.

                Setting up a flexible timeline in your head, you expected to command their respect by at least the sixth week. You had it by the third. When you told them to line up at the beginning of class, they scampered like mice to get in their positions, forming neat little rows in front of you. It was almost as though they were your own little private army to control and command, and you weren’t ashamed to admit that you loved every moment of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's starting to influence him way too strongly, he's starting to influence her way too strongly....what bad could POSSIBLY come from that?? Guess you'll find out...................soon. ;)
> 
> PS: Just wanted to let you know that my friend asked me to do the Master Cleanse with her, and because this is me, I try to get as many people involved as possible, so naturally my whole tiny little crew of editors is now doing this too. Basically it involves eating no food and drinking only a mixture of lemonade, maple syrup and cayenne pepper for 10 days straight. Why do this, you ask? Mostly because I literally can't turn down a challenge, but if it starts impacting my writing at all, I'll probably stop. Just felt it was fair to warn you, in case I suddenly start writing a whole passage about food in the middle of a chapter that seems ridiculously out of place. xD


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue: Part 1

                Things seemed to fall into a bit of a routine after that. With Phasma busy performing other duties, sometimes it was just you hosting the training sessions, not that you minded. Everyone had pretty much figured out after the first day that Phasma was grooming you to be in charge, although you had to admit that she had mostly sat back and let you take the reins. At first you were afraid that you didn’t know what you would do or how to teach, but fortunately Phasma left you a schedule of things to teach them, which were all extremely basic and not complicated by any means: how to free yourself if you were pinned down, how to wrestle a blaster out of someone’s hands if they were pointing it at your face, and so on. Not that they all got it right away, but you let them practice. You took it that this was more of a class for stress relief than actual defense anyway, but you let yourself take it seriously and pretend as though you were training your own little army.

                Sometimes you would tell Kylo that you were training a badass squadron of fighters to take command of the First Order, starting with the fat lady that worked in the cafeteria and the older guy with a bald head that worked in maintenance. Kylo would laugh at you, then, and ask if you were suggesting treason, to which you always promptly replied that it was only treason if you _really_ meant it. Personally, you felt like you could probably do a better job running the base than Hux could, but then again, you didn’t even really know what Hux did, so you reserved judgement. It’s not like you had actually seen him again, either, so it wasn’t really a concern to you.

                But all in all, teaching them was good fun and you enjoyed it a lot. Sometimes you would walk back and forth between them pretending that you really were Kylo Ren, and these were Storm Troopers that would obey your every order without question. During drills, you would sometimes approach a specific person and demand that they drop down on their hands and perform twenty push-ups, and they would do it, too, with only minor hesitation and silent grumbling. It was one of those things that brought a smile to your face, the fact that someone was doing what you told them to do without really getting anything in return.

                That was what you called it, anyway. Ladson called it an abuse of power and asked if you should get your own personal helmet as well. You joked that you might be interested, but it would probably mess up your hair and you had no desire to look like a frazzled mess every time you took the helmet on and off. Kylo had somehow managed to look perfect every time he took his helmet off – a Force trait you weren’t sure if you had learned yet – but your hair was also a lot longer, and helmets really weren’t your thing anyway.

                You saw Ladson about once a week, sometimes twice, but those were rare instances. He joked around with you sometimes, but you could still tell there was a change in his demeanor. He was more taciturn, and more quiet, staring out into space for long periods of time. You could tell that he hadn’t been in any battle because there were no scuffs on his armor yet, but you supposed that would only be a matter of time. Regardless, you don’t talk to him about that or his training, knowing that he probably doesn’t have the clearance to answer your questions. Instead, you just try to support him as best you can, letting him know that you’re there for him on things that he can talk about, and cracking stupid jokes to help distract him from the things he can’t.

                You still don’t know what happened to Shayne. You hadn’t seen him around on base. You had even asked a few people at self-defense class that were older and didn’t seem as intimidated by you if they had seen him, but no one had. It was like he had simply vanished, and although you knew that probably wasn’t the case, you couldn’t help but recall what Ladson said. Maybe Shayne had ran his mouth just a little too much and really had gotten himself taken into space and thrown out of an airlock. Eventually, you decide that it’s a lost cause and stop trying to look for him. He was a grown man; taking care of himself was really his problem. You could only do so much. You were only one person, and you had come to realize that you couldn’t save everyone. You weren’t sure if this realization was based off maturity or cynical in nature, but the reason for it didn’t matter, it didn’t change the fact that you doubted you would ever see Shayne again.

                You weren’t sure if you would ever see Sadie again, either, but you were at least comforted by the fact that you knew now that Kylo had saved her. Ladson, too, seemed comforted by what you had seen in Kylo’s head, and although you had no way to know if whatever pilot Kylo had sent her off with really did deliver her to her intended destination, you had no way to know for sure, and so it wasn’t worth thinking about. Sadie was probably home, safe, with her father, probably going back to school for something or another. You weren’t sure if she would go back to interpreting or not. She had changed, that much was obvious from the last time you had seen her, and you could only hope that her father would patiently listen to what she had been through. He would never understand; it was one of those things that you would never understand unless you lived through it, but you hoped Sadie was finding ways to heal regardless.

                Now that you had taken over the training sessions, it actually freed up a little bit of Phasma’s time, and you began to regard her as somewhat of a friend. She would come visit you after your training sessions had been completed and spar with you, although considering her size, you mostly both resorted to just sparring with your staffs. You still sparred with Kylo, of course, but he was obviously much, much better than you. Phasma did not have that much experience with a staff, and so her skill level was more on par with yours, although sometimes she would teach you new tricks to spin your staff, or subtle ways to surprise your opponents. Unfortunately, you were usually the one at the mercy of such attacks before she taught you how to do it yourself, but it didn’t faze you in the least. You were always eager to take any new scrap of training and master it, so you could turn around and subdue Kylo with it later. You hardly ever managed to catch him off his guard, but there were a few times when you managed to _almost_ defeat him that you knew your skills had vastly improved.

                 But every night, you returned home to Kylo, or, rather, Kylo returned home to you. Sometimes he went on missions, but those were few and far between. Most only lasted for a few days, but considering you had your self-defense lessons to keep you busy, and Ladson was allowed to stay with you and keep you company while he was away, it almost seemed worth it, especially considering the make up sex you had with him when he came home. You still sparred with him, but it seemed to happen less and less as time passed. After all, you sometimes tuckered yourself out from your self-defense classes, or from sparring with Phasma, and Kylo was sometimes just too exhausted mentally from dealing with Hux to take his aggression out on you. You had learned from Phasma that his bursts of anger were actually a seldom occurrence as of late, and you weren’t sure if it was because you were able to mentally steady him because of your Force bond, or if it was because you seemed to provide him with some small glimmer of happiness that he had been missing before. You could tell when some days were especially rough for him by the way he would come home and just touch you, feeling your warm skin under his hands, as if to prove to himself that you were really there.

                You still tell him that you love him now and again, not every day, but moments when you really feel like you are so in love with him that your heart could burst out of your chest, you don’t bother holding back. He doesn’t say it back, he never has and you begin to suspect that he never will, but that doesn’t matter to you. When he is training you in the Force and he allows you to see into his mind, you can feel his emotions, and you can tell how he feels about you. It’s not exactly the same way you feel about him: while you would run through the corridors shouting at the top of your lungs about how much you loved him, Kylo still held back. He was still a little reserved, still a little unsure, and you weren’t sure if time would erase it or if it was just something that you would always have to deal with, but you knew you would be there to support him regardless. The only thing that you could do was to make it clear that you were his, that you weren’t leaving, that you never wanted to leave, and that was usually the end of that.

                 You still hadn’t learned how to do a Force choke, but your other abilities were getting sharper, more refined. You could do little tricks now, like turning on the sink faucet with the Force and your mind instead of your hand. You could summon your staff into your hand, and you could occasionally push people, like Phasma during sparring to make her lose her balance, although she absolutely _hated_ that. You always blamed her two left feet and simply called her clumsy, but deep down you knew that she knew what you were doing. Not that you could help it. You had to practice on someone, and you knew she could take it. Practicing on Ladson just seemed mean, and although you didn’t really talk about the Force with him, you could tell that he was starting to suspect that you were getting a lot more powerful than you let on.

                One of the more useful tools at your disposal was the ability to construct a shield in your mind to separate yourself from Kylo when he was having a particularly aggressive mood swing. You could probably create a wall now, if you wanted to, but you liked having the ability to fluctuate between periods of being by yourself and periods of just being able to sense him there. It was comforting in a way that didn’t really make a lot of sense; it felt almost as if his spirit was sitting right beside you, watching you, feeling everything you were feeling. Still, sometimes it was helpful to just block him off completely, just to make sure you still felt like yourself and you weren’t being influenced by him too much. You were bonded now, and you couldn’t help that, but you could control how you let it affect you.

                You could also block Kylo from getting into your head, not completely, but you had managed to block at least visual memories from him. He still got the audio on full-blast, you could sense that, but it was still a useful tool to at least mask your visual memories from him. Not that you really had to hide anything from him anymore, but it was useful to know you could if you ever needed to. Still, even if you could, you weren’t sure you would ever even want to. You had nothing to hide from him, and what’s more, you had nothing to fear from him; you hadn’t for quite some time. He was never truly angry around you. He never threatened you, and he never accidentally lost his temper and grabbed you in a Force choke, not once.

                If anything, you felt like you had started to understand Kylo Ren and who he was a lot better now. Even though you still didn’t know anything about his past, you knew his present. With the Force bond linking you together, there was nothing he could really hide from you. He never really bothered to keep his shield up, even when he was away from you, and so you could feel his momentary flashes of irritation and his occasional bursts of rage. He made no attempt to hide any of it from you, and when you weren’t busy doing something else, you always tried to take the time to help send him as much positive energy as you could to help even out his mood, swallowing his anger as if it was your own and venting it in ways that he couldn’t.

                You still didn’t know what he did out there in the galaxy on his little missions. When he came back, you were always so happy to see him, so happy to let him touch you, that you didn’t even think about whose blood was on his hands as he thrust his fingers inside of you. To you, that still wasn’t a concern. Kylo was fighting a war, and although now you could appreciate how innocent people could get swept up in a larger conflict they wanted nothing to do with, it was up to everyone else to fend for themselves, much as you had. It wasn’t your job to try to turn Kylo into a good person, because you didn’t know what good was. Instead, you stuck with what you did know. You knew that you loved him, you knew that he wanted you by his side, and you were happy to be there and support him in whatever way that meant.

                In a way, you were finally happy. You had found your usefulness on the Starkiller Base, and it had nothing to do with being physically intimate with Kylo Ren, although you still enjoyed that part very much, consenting wholeheartedly to let him pleasure you and fuck you in whatever new ways you and he could think up. No, instead, you had found bravery, courage, and strength that you didn’t know you had. And it didn’t just have to do with your Force powers, either. You had learned how to defend yourself, both with a staff and with your two bare hands. You had learned to use your cunning to help save your friends. You had learned how to trust in Kylo even though you had every reason not to, and you learned to rely on yourself and your own instincts in order to survive. You may not have been the same person that entered Stakiller Base as an interpreter, but you could now appreciate how much stronger you had become. 

                You felt like you had completed a part of yourself that you hadn’t even realized that you were missing, and as much as you hated to admit it, it didn’t just come from your stubborn sense of self-reliance, a trait that you had always harbored since your youth. You had been vulnerable with Kylo in ways that you had never been vulnerable before, and you loved him not unconditionally, but absolutely, unabashedly, and unapologetically. As cheesy as it sounded, you were really and truly bonded to him, whether through the Force or by something else entirely, and you could just imagine Sadie telling you that you had found your soulmate. You would have given her a hard time about it, of course, but a secret part of you, the part of you that curled up to Kylo every night, would agree that she was right.

                Truly, curling up with him at the end of every night was always the best part of your day. You remembered back when you had first slept with him and you had tried to memorize the way his lips felt pressed against yours, the way his fingertips moved against your skin, and the intoxicating bliss of his hot breath against your ear as he whispered your name, but you didn’t have to do that anymore. Now you could relax around him, just passively enjoying the way he slept with his face sometimes pressed against the crook of your neck, or the way he slept with his arms wrapped firmly around you, secretly wishing that one night when you were snuggled up together, time itself would freeze and you would be free to just spend the rest of eternity together in that moment.

                You wish it could have lasted forever, and in truth, a part of you always suspected that it would end some way or another, but you couldn’t ever really imagine how. You and Kylo were bonded; it didn’t seem like it was possible for one of you to go on without the other. But what existed between you and Kylo was a good thing, and although you had never met him, you would have agreed with Supreme Leader Snoke: despite how much you wished against it, all good things would eventually end.

                Change was inevitable; there are no happy stories that last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small recap of Reader's life on base as we slowly approach the end of this story. What's in store for tomorrow? You're just going to have to wait and find out. ;) Until tomorrow, cheers!!


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bow your heads in a brief moment of silence for the last bit of smut in this story.  
> (I make up for it in chapter one of the sequel, I promise.)

                You smile and stretch out on the bed, still basking in the afterglow from the last time Kylo Ren had had his way with you. It was getting better. You weren’t quite sure how, but the sex was definitely getting better. Maybe it was because you had told him you loved him so often now that the air between you was suddenly charged with the intense emotional connection that you had previously kept hidden. Kylo Ren still had not verbally returned your affections, but you could tell by the way he held you at night or grunted your name in his sleep as he pulled you close to him that he cared for you, deeply. He didn’t say those three words, but for some reason, you didn’t care. You knew what he felt towards you, and he was kind to you, and that was enough to keep you happy.

                Until one day, a day that seemed both very far off in the future and yet much too soon, when Kylo Ren stormed into your apartment. You could hear him raking in frantic gasps of air as he pulled off his helmet, and you quickly scooted off the bed from where you had been resting and cautiously walked out into the living room to greet him. “There you are.” Kylo closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath, and his eyes look almost panicked. This was not an expression that you had seen him wear before.  

                “Here I am,” you reply uncertainly. He rubs at his forehead with one gloved hand and doesn’t answer right away. “Kylo, what’s wrong? Are you all right? Did something happen?”

                “I fear a rebel attack on the base is imminent,” he says softly. “I no longer believe it is safe for you to be on base. I have a pilot on standby outside to take you back to your home planet. Please stay there; you should be safe.”

                You grab his arm, your breath hitching in your throat. “And what about you?” He turns back to look at you, and a shy, sad smile graces his lips. It makes your heart twist and you realize you’re fighting back tears. “I know you have to stay but, but-” You have to say it. It doesn’t matter how childish it sounds. “I don’t want to leave you.”

                You can’t fight the tears that are pooling in your eyes as he rips off his gloves, letting them drop to the floor. He takes your face in his hands, which feel warmer than usual, as he pulls you close to kiss your forehead. He whispers your name softly, wrapping his arms around you as he rests his chin on the top of your head.  

                “I won’t go,” you say firmly, your voice muffled against his chest. “I don’t want to leave you, I can’t.”

                “You need to.” He takes your hand in his and guides it up to his cheek, where he lets your fingertips rest against his temple. You let your shield slip a little as you feel an immense wave of fear pass through you, his fear. He’s worried about keeping you safe, but it’s more than that. Beyond the fear is an erratic mess of emotions ranging from worry to an intense apprehension that almost borders on panic, and you know right then that if you stay on this base he’s not going to be able to focus on whatever it is he needs to do if he’s worried about protecting you. Right now, you _are_ a weakness to him, and that is something you never wanted to be.

                You close your eyes as you sink your teeth into your lower lip so hard you can taste salt when you release it. “When will I see you again?”

                “I will find you,” he says at length. “When this is over, I will find you. I’ll send for you.” It kills you to pull away but you do anyway, forcing yourself to meet his eyes.

                “Do you promise?” you ask. You gaze into his deep, dark eyes, possibly for the last time, and the realization only makes it worse. You had always feared that something like this _could_ happen, but it was something you forced yourself not to think about. And now it was here and you weren’t the least bit prepared. He dips his head in the smallest of nods. He would come back for you. Whatever happened, he would survive this and make it back to you. You had never seen him on the battlefield, but he was indestructible, you knew that. He was one of the most powerful men in the whole of the galaxy. No one could possibly defeat him.

                “I love you,” you whisper to him, pressing your lips against his. He kisses you back with more urgency and less passion than you would have liked, sweeping your hair back out of your face with one hand as he does so.

                “As do I,” he whispers back, and you blink at him in confusion. “I love you,” he says, as if it wasn’t clear the first time. Your eyes search his, and you can tell that he means it, he really means it. Suddenly you can’t bear to let yourself to be torn from him. You push yourself into him, kissing him urgently, and he picks you up. Your legs twist around his waist as he carries you into the bedroom.

                “This needs to be fast,” he says, removing only a small amount of clothing and armor so that you can better access his erection.

                “Okay,” you breathe, pulling off the shorts you were wearing in one swift motion. You wait for him to free himself as he sits down on the edge of the bed. Today, you don’t even need any coaxing, you’re ready to go. You climb into his lap and push yourself down onto him. You’re not quite as wet as you could be, but he begins to move in you anyway, and the friction of him pushing himself inside of you gets more and more pleasurable as you try to relish the sensation, try to savor it. You push your chest up against his armor as you kiss him, your hands fisting in his hair as you grind up and down along his length. This may be the last time you would be with him for a while, and you had to make the most of it. You couldn’t make this last, but you could force yourself to remember every detail. You could force yourself to remember how your skin sings under his touch, force yourself to remember the way he exhales that shaky gasp of breath when your lips suck on the tender skin of his collarbone, the way he whimpers your name and cradles the back of your head in his large hands as he comes. He stills inside of you, and though you’re not quite there yet, you remember how long you basked in your afterglow this morning. You wanted to lose yourself in him more than anything, but you couldn’t, not when you didn’t know the next time you were going to see him.  

                You sit on him for a moment longer, feeling his cock twitch pleasantly inside of you as you press your lips against his again. You put your hands on either side of his neck as you caress his tender skin with your thumbs, looking into his eyes. “I don’t want to go.”

                “I’ll find you,” he says. You hear the strength and conviction in his voice, but you don’t know if it’s there because he really means it or if he’s saying it for your benefit. “I will tear the galaxy apart to find you again, I promise.”

                You close your eyes and look away as a single tear drips down your flushed cheek. “Don’t make promises you can’t-”

                “I promise,” he says firmly, giving you an extra squeeze of reassurance.

                This makes you smile as you wrap your arms around him, kissing his neck. You know you don’t have a lot of time by the way he shifts uncomfortably underneath you and so you quickly sit back up and plant a firm kiss against his lips. “I will be there,” you tell him. “I’ll be waiting for you. Please keep yourself safe.”

                He looks back at you and nods, his face solemn. Slowly, you ease yourself off of him, putting your hands in his for support. His fingers brush against yours as he heads back into the living room. Sticky juices run down your legs and he talks as he walks. “Pack your things quickly. Take your staff. Continue to train yourself. I expect you to be able to best me by the time I return to you.”

                You know what he’s doing, but it only makes it worse. “I love you,” you whimper as he reaches for his helmet. He wraps one arm around you, his other hand cupping your face as he kisses you deeply, intensely. Will he ever kiss you like this again? How long would it be until he did? You didn’t have a clue. Tears are flowing freely down your face now, but you don’t even care.

                “I love you,” he says, and he sounds a bit nervous saying it, but he doesn’t know the next time he’ll be able to say it either. Maybe he’s only saying it now because you want to hear it, but either way, you appreciate what he’s trying to do. It doesn’t even matter what he says, anyway. You know how he feels about you. “Please stay safe.”

                His gloves are on and his face disappears beneath the helmet. Your eyes drop to the floor – that’s not the way you want to remember him – and he turns to go. “Kylo, I love you,” you call after him, your voice breaking and choked with sobs, but he doesn’t turn around as he leaves. You know he can’t, and you raise the back of your hand to your mouth as you release a shuddering sob before you rush into your room.

                You gather a few things into a small pack, taking a few clothes, your datapad, and a few of Sadie’s books that you had to admit that you were growing quite fond of. Kylo had given you a sling holster for your staff so that you could easily take it with you to your self-defense classes, and so you slip it over your head now, adjusting the straps over your body as you slide the staff into it.

                Struck with a sudden idea, you go through his things and pull out two of his black scarves. You pack one away for safekeeping and wrap the other one around your shoulders, leaving enough material to pull a hood over your head, just like he did. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind too much, but you needed something, anything, to remind yourself that he was real. That _this_ was real.

                The doors open again as you slide your pack on your back and a Storm Trooper walks through. “Are you ready to go?”

                You recognize the voice through the helmet immediately. “Ladson?” you ask quickly. You hadn’t seen him in quite some time, but you figured that was just because Kylo had been around more lately. “Kylo is sending me off the base. It isn’t safe here.”

                “I know,” he says quickly. “I’m your pilot.”

                “What?” you ask blankly, tilting your head to the side in confusion.

                “Are you all set?” he asks urgently. “We need to leave quickly.”

                You nod your head, letting your eyes take one final sweep around the room. You _liked_ it here now. You didn’t want to leave. But you didn’t have a choice. You suck in a breath and wipe away the tears furiously with the backs of your hands. You had to be strong now. You could do this. “I’m ready.”

                He nods his head. “Follow me.” You follow his fast pace as he makes his way through the base. There are many Storm Troopers crowding the corridors, but you stay close behind Ladson. Idly, you realize you’re not going to have time to say goodbye to Captain Phasma and you wish you would have told Kylo to tell her to stay safe as well, but there hadn’t been time, you hadn’t thought about it, and you figured you were going to wish you had time to do a whole lot of other last minute stuff aboard the base before you left. You could let a million different regrets hit you later, but not now.

                You had never really taken the time to inspect the inside of the hangar before. It was a large room, no, ginormous, and there were ships everywhere you looked. You stood there, taking it all in, as Ladson turned to speak to a Trooper on his left. You could barely hear them above the sound of Storm Troopers running all around you, above the roar of engines powering up. You could see the other Storm Trooper look over at you, and for a moment you wondered if you should be glad that you were wearing Kylo’s scarf the way he did, clearly identifying yourself as his, as the Storm Trooper steps aside to let you pass.

                “Follow me, quickly,” Ladson commands, his voice full of authority as he leads you to a ship. He gets inside and you quickly follow him into the co-pilot seat, staring at all of the buttons and switches and levers and knobs that surround you.

                You gulp but stay quiet as he toggles a variety of switches, hits a few buttons, and slowly the ship begins to rise into the air. Ladson goes back and forth over the comlink with what you guessed was some military flight controller, reading off numbers and codes for her before she grants you permission to leave. You fly out into a metal-walled trench in the planet and Ladson pilots you up and over the opposite wall before leveling off and flying in a circle, exchanging one last set of numbers with the controller. There’s a brief pause, and then, with a hint of finality, “Very well, LN-2829, opening shield corridor in your sector. Starkiller Base signing off.”

                Your breath catches in your throat and you can feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest. Your fingers close around your staff through the holster, and you cast one longing look back at the base before the ship rises steeply and takes off into the darkness of space.

                “No,” you whisper after a moment, as the reality of the situation finally sinks in. You weren’t going to set foot back on Starkiller Base ever again. You weren’t sure how you knew, but somehow, you were sure of it. “No, no, no.”

                Ladson glances at you nervously, finally bringing himself to tear off his helmet. “Are you okay?”

                You’re starting to cry again, so hard you can barely speak. “Kylo-”

                “He’s going to be okay,” he says dismissively. It doesn’t make you feel any better, and you continue to cry loudly. “He’s going to be okay,” he repeats. “That’s why he let you go, right? To protect you? Now he can fight without worrying if you’re in any danger.”

                You nod your head quickly. That was true, but the fact that you mattered enough to him for him to send you away in the first place meant more than it should have. It didn’t help that he had told you he loved you, twice. Of course the first day he would say it was the day when you were never quite sure if you would ever see him again.

                “He said he’d come back for me,” you tell him. You’re aware of how stupid that sounds but you just can’t help yourself.

                “Then he’ll come back,” Ladson says. He sounds far too sure of himself. How could he be so sure when even you weren’t?

                He gives you time to cry, but you don’t want to cry, not now. Kylo would probably hate the fact that you were sobbing over him like a child, but you couldn’t help yourself. He wasn’t around to see you right now anyway.

                Ladson stays silent as he flicks a few more switches, and you recognize the signature sound that meant you were about to jump to hyperspace. Outside the windows, you can see stars slowly stretch into lines radiating out from a point directly in front of you before they blend into what looked like a swirling blue tunnel through space, but you have to close your eyes and look away. Your vision is too blurry from your tears and you know looking at it is only going to make you dizzy, so you turn to Ladson instead. He looks different since the last time you saw him. Older, more mature, more composed. “So when did you learn to be a pilot? You never told me you could fly a ship.”

                “I can, but only this one,” he explains. “As you saw in the hangar, the First Order has all kinds of ships, but Kylo Ren specifically ordered them to train me on this crew transport in the event you needed to be safely escorted off base, just like now, since its only purpose is to travel from point A to point B as fast as possible. So, basically, I can pilot a ship, but only this one.” He tilts his head to the side in consideration. “Although from what I’ve heard, I guess I could _technically_ fly a TIE fighter or one of those troop transports, but they handle differently and it would probably be a wild ride.”

                He tries to smile at you, but you just shrug your shoulders. “Besides, I could only have ever flown us home on this specific ship since I never actually really learned exactly how a hyperdrive works.”

                “Um,” you say loudly, gesturing to the swirling vortex outside. “What’s that then?”

                Ladson just lets out a little chuckle. “There wasn’t enough time to teach me the math for it, so they preprogrammed the coordinates for home and overrode some controls so all I had to do was press that big blue button right there and it would take us back.”

                You glance at the button he had pointed to with his chin, but it still doesn’t really mean much to you. “But why?” you ask, still confused.

                “I told you, Kylo Ren had me specifically trained in the event that you would need to be safely escorted off the base,” he explains. “He left me explicit instructions. I am to stay by your side and keep you safe at all times. I have been trained in numerous types of combat and I am ready to put my life on the line to protect yours.”

                He says this so stiffly, so robotically, that you’re almost not quite sure that you’re talking to Ladson. You blink, unable to comprehend what he’s saying. “Kylo ordered you to protect me?”

                “That is correct.” He doesn’t look at you, and you gaze at his profile in the dim light.

                “But you’re still you, right?” you ask quietly.

                “Last time I checked.” He looks over at you and winks, and you let out the shaky breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

                You brush your hair out of your face with one hand. You never thought you would be headed back to your academia. It was a few day journey, and you couldn’t stand the wait. Would you see Sadie there? How would she react to seeing you and Ladson again?

                But right now, you can’t think about Sadie. Instead, your thoughts drift back to Kylo as you think about all the ways he seemed to surprise you. You never thought he would rescue Sadie, and you never thought he would have trained Ladson to pilot a ship or to be your own personal bodyguard, but then again, you never thought you would ever hear him tell you that he loved you, either. Did he no longer view loving you as a weakness? Was he finally beginning to see real affection for another human being as a strength?

                You can’t help but laugh to yourself. You certainly felt weak right now, your face red and stained with tears. You pull his scarf tighter around you, pleased that it still smells like him. He had a subtle smell, and you didn’t know how long it would last for once you got back to your academia. You feel like you’re about to cry again, but you have no more tears. They won’t come.

                “He’ll be okay, won’t he?” you ask quietly.

                “He’ll be fine,” Ladson replies. He sounds a lot more sure than you feel, and you wish you had that much unwavering confidence in him. You had forgotten what Kylo Ren looked like with the mask on, how intimidating and frightening he seemed to everyone around him. You had come to know him as the person living beneath the mask, the person who had fears and doubts. The person who could be emotionally vulnerable. The person who could give and receive love.

                And, as it turned out, he was the sort of person who could love, selflessly, sending you away for your own protection, putting your safety over his desire to keep you near him. You couldn’t help but regret the bitter irony of the situation: he had proven that his love for you truly was selfless and pure by sending you away, and now you didn’t know when you were going to see him again. You didn’t know how to deal with that sense of loss, you truly didn’t.

                “Will we be fine?” you ask him, your voice catching at the end of your words.

                He reaches his gloved hand towards you and you take it. It’s not as big as Kylo’s hand, or as warm, but it’s a comforting gesture nonetheless. He looks back towards you, his eyes meeting your own.

                “We’re going to be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I want to thank my tech advisor for help with that piloting bit, who wants to go by Codename J.A.M. He is helping me with the technical aspects of the Star Wars universe, answering such questions as, "How do you actually pilot things in the Star Wars universe compared to earth aviation and what's the difference between piloting different kinds of ships?", "How do blasters work?", "How is Star Wars plasma different from plasma here on earth?" and "How are you so smart?" These are all questions that will have a huge impact on the sequel, so I'm glad to have him on board. 
> 
> Secondly, I'm going to get real for a second. I got some anon Tumblr hate yesterday, and they said some seriously upsetting stuff to the point where I stopped writing (seriously, I haven't written at ALL since I got the hate, which is rare for me) and I considered just wrapping up the story here and not posting the sequel at all, which sucks because I've already written 80k words. Honestly, this story is really personal for me, just because it combines so much of me: my profession, my martial arts training, and my work as a crisis counselor. I spend a great deal of my days literally talking to people and helping them figure things out, and a great deal of that entails figuring out whether or not their relationships are or are not abusive. To tell me to kill myself because I am perpetuating abuse, is first of all, not okay because you should never say that to anyone ever, but secondly, this is me coping and venting and channeling what I work with everyday in literary format. If it makes you uncomfortable, please just stop reading it. Don't tell me to kill myself. And maybe I'm saying this a bit late, but it apparently needs to be said: I did not set up this story to be abusive. Sure, he does emotionally abusive things because he's Kylo Ren, but the Reader was purposely kept in the dark about what exactly he had done in the past for a reason (which will be addressed later). This is war, and terrible things happen, and I like to keep things real. People die, people go missing, people get hurt, and it's a fact of life, and I like tackling these hard issues in a fictional setting. I know there's a huge debate raging on Tumblr right now that I have so far stayed out of that fiction influences people, and it does, I'm not arguing that, but some people need to write/draw/blog/whatever to cope and to vent, and despite the front people put up, you can't see behind the screen and you don't know what someone is really going through, so really, really think twice before you send anyone hate in any form. 
> 
> First and foremost, I wrote this story for me, and I wrote this story for my close friend, Matt, who committed suicide not too long ago, who the character of Ladson is based off of. Now, I already started writing the sequel. I am 18 full chapters and 80k words in. It's a bold undertaking, because we do veer a bit from this course (now that you read the chapter, she is no longer on Starkiller Base which opens up a ton of possibilities) and when our Reader does learn some hard truths about Kylo Ren's past (I don't think it's a spoiler if everyone saw that coming? xD) it's going to open a whole lot of new questions for her about the nature of their relationship and I'm going to muck around in those waters for a bit in the sequel, but this is a trilogy, I have always intended it to be, so if you're here, I hope you're here for the long haul, because it always get darkest before the dawn, and the third part is literally my favorite part, I can't wait to write it, and I hope you'll stick around.
> 
> In short, basically what I'm saying is if you didn't like this story, I'm sorry about that, but please don't send me anon messages telling me to kill myself because then I don't want to write this story anymore. I mean, I'll still write it for me, but then I won't want to post it, and then it'll take it away from the people who did/do enjoy it. And for the people that do enjoy it, I'm not going to lie, I could really use some love and some good vibes right now. I know a ton of you have been super sweet and so supportive of me and this story and I am SO thankful for that, I just had to get this off my chest (and I didn't lie before, I literally do read back through all of your sweet messages and last night I did to try to get me to write even a little bit, but it just wasn't flowing.) 
> 
> And if anyone who is reading this is currently experiencing "something" and you don't know who to talk to about it, please text Crisis Text Line at 741-741 where a trained professional will listen to you vent, confidentially, without judgement. It's free and won't show up on your phone bill for major carriers (Sprint, Verizon, etc.) 
> 
> OKAY, ALL THAT SAID, FINAL CHAPTER TOMORROW. STAY TUNED. CHEERS!!
> 
> ((AND HOLY CRAP THANKS FOR ALL YOUR SUPER SWEET MESSAGES YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST!!! <333 ))


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue: Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to start off the final chapter of A Flare in the Dark by shouting THANK YOU from the top of my lungs, not just for reading and sticking with this story over the past month, but also for the overwhelming amount of positivity and support that I received yesterday. Seriously, I was not expecting it, at all, and I literally sat here with my giant Kylo Ren plushie in my lap crying like a toddler because I was just so touched by the ways in which I've been able to make a positive impact in your lives with what originally started out as an idea for a Kylo Ren smut fic....what that means to me, seriously, you have no idea. This story would not have grown into a trilogy without your fantastic support, so thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. <3

                You felt tears spring into your eyes as you started your descent into your planet’s atmosphere. You couldn’t help it. You had always sort of thought of this planet as your home, back when you were foolish enough to assume that home was a place, a planet, and not a person. No, home for you was probably still stalking about the Starkiller Base, driving fear into the hearts of anyone who passed him in its dimly lit corridors. You had only been gone two days, three at the most, and yet you could imagine that he had probably destroyed at least a dozen consoles in your absence, now that you were no longer there to soothe him. You tried to giggle as you cried, but it only came out as a disgusting snort, and Ladson simply looked at you and shook his head.

                During the journey, Ladson had slowly started to come back to himself. You didn’t know what sort of brainwashing techniques they used on Storm Troopers to keep them loyal, but he seemed more or less like his old self. He was quieter now, but you could only imagine that that had less to do with whatever training he had received and more to do with everything he had seen and done and experienced on the Starkiller Base. Taro and the other Tortutaru were all dead. B and C were dead, and you had no idea if Shayne was still on the Starkiller Base, or if he was dead or halfway across the galaxy, living on another planet right now.

                You let your thoughts consume you as he landed the ship, and you slowly made your way through the roads to Sadie’s house. Ladson led the way, his helmet tucked under one arm. It was strange to see the sun, strange to see the green of trees and to feel the cool morning breeze brush softly against the tender skin of your cheeks, which had recently been rubbed raw by your on and off bouts of crying. You couldn’t help it. Being back here, on this planet, almost made me you believe that the whole thing had never happened at all, as if Kylo Ren had been nothing more than a dream, a pleasant distraction. You let out a breath as your fingers clumsily stroke the fabric of his scarf. He had been real, both the scarf and the throbbing ache in your chest confirmed it, and you let your feet carry you numbly to the house that belonged to Sadie’s father.

                Her father owned a small shop where he traded his wares, and his house was located directly behind it. Fortunately, it was very early in the morning when you arrived, and the sun was only just breaking over the horizon when you walked into the door of his shop. He was an older man now, and the gray hairs in his beard reflected his age. He had been looking down, working on some droid in the corner when you had approached, but you could see his entire body tense as his eyes focused on Ladson’s armor. His eyes immediately traveled to your face, and you could see him searching you for a moment, trying to remember where he knew you from. It may have only taken him seconds to place you, but that was the confirmation you needed. You knew that you were not the same person you had been when you had left the planet, too much had happened, but the longer it took him to place you, the more and more you felt determined to separate yourself from the girl who had left here for a six month internship.

                He whispers your name, and your head bows forward in a simple nod, your face expressionless. “Sadie,” he calls, his voice gruff and hoarse, as if he had recently been sick. “Sadie.”

                “Yes, papa?” Her voice is the same as it always was, but her long hair, which had previously been her pride and joy, was gone now, cut into a simple bob that didn’t even reach her shoulders. She too, freezes, as her eyes sweep over Ladson’s armor, but she recognizes his face immediately. And then she sees yours. She freezes as her eyes lock with yours, and for a moment you’re worried that she’s going to scream at you, tell you to get out, before she lunges at you. You put up your arms defensively as she throws herself into them, wrapping her arms around you as she sobs into your shoulder. You hug her back, letting tears carve out yet another trail in your cheeks. Honestly, you had no idea how your body was still producing tears at this point, but apparently it could.

                Sadie led you into a back room and told you all about how Kylo Ren had come into Hux’s chambers a few days after she had seen you. She had admitted that she had been afraid that he was going to kill her before he had decided to release her, sending a trooper to escort her back to her home planet. She told you everything that you had seen in the vision in Kylo’s head, but you decided it was probably best if you didn’t tell her about that. Even though she didn’t mention it, you could still see a scar on the side of her neck from where his lightsaber had burned off her collar. Her dark skin camouflaged it well, but you knew it was there, a symbol of both Kylo’s virtue and Hux’s cruelty, something she would have to be reminded of everyday for the rest of her life.

                She explained that she had first been afraid: the trooper had not said a word the entire way back, and she was worried that he was going to drop her off on another planet before they finally landed at the edge of town. He had let her off the ship and had released her without so much as a barter or condition, taking off as soon as her bare feet touched the soil. As the ship hovered off the ground, she hadn’t even bothered to watch him go, racing instead towards her home, towards her waiting father, who embraced her with an anxious sense of relief, embracing her as only a father truly could.

                Over hot cups of tea which helped soothe your sore throat, she had asked you about what had happened to you. She had made it clear to say _both_ of you, but between his armor and his expression, you could tell that Sadie perceived something different in Ladson as well. You could only imagine what sort of nightmares still haunted Sadie about her time there, and both his armor and demeanor were a reflection of the terror she had experienced. That was as evident to you as it was to her, but what was not clear to you was how much you had changed.

                Throwing caution to the wind, you told both her and her father about your time with Kylo Ren, touching his scarf tenderly every time you said his name. You omitted the graphic details about how you had been intimate with him, but you did, however, imply that he had developed a sort of tenderness for you, a soft spot, and somehow you had both come to rely and depend on each other. You told them about your other, recreational excursions on the base, about how you continued to help with self-defense classes and how you had gotten quite skilled with a staff that Captain Phasma had given you, but omitted any and all talk of your Force training. You continued your story up until the very end, explaining how Kylo Ren feared an attack on the base was imminent. Sadie looked concerned when you said this, but said nothing as you finished telling your tale.

                “And then he kissed me, and then he told me that he loved me, and then he was gone,” you recalled, fighting back the tears that were present in your voice as you spoke. “So I packed, quickly, and Ladson came in. Kylo had someone teach him how to be a pilot, and he flew us out of there.”

                “I’ve been ordered to protect her,” he tells Sadie as his gaze travels to you. “And I will take that vow seriously.”

                “Until he returns,” you remind him. “Until Kylo Ren returns for me.” His face falls into the ghost of a nod, and Sadie looks between you. The expression on her face was clear, but there was nothing you could do to assuage her fears. She was afraid that she had lost both of you to the First Order, that you had both irreversibly changed, and while you supposed that at least part of that was true, it would be quite a while before you could prove to her that at least some pieces of you still remained intact, that the parts of you that still cared for her hadn’t changed.

                Sadie’s father went into great detail explaining how he had lost a large sum of money trying to pay off trackers to find and rescue his daughter after the school learned about the deaths of B and C. They had clearly all been unsuccessful, but Sadie’s father refused to give up hope and brokered a deal with a local space traffic control center to let him know if any ships of unknown registration were detected coming out of hyperspace in the system and headed towards the town, so when a shuttle came out of hyperspace and headed for the planet, he was one of the first to know. First Order ships were generally manufactured off the books so they were all unregistered, but every ship had a unique signature that space traffic controllers could use to figure out what ship just came out of hyperspace in their system. He continued to explain that whenever ships went into and emerged from hyperspace, they emitted a signature radiation via something called the Cronau Effect, and while Ladson had been quick to question him on that, you stopped paying attention, and rolled your eyes as you turned to Sadie, who just giggled in response.

                Despite his financial loss, he was determined to find some way to repay you for saving Sadie, and he provided you with a small cottage between his own dwellings and the academia. At first you wanted to refuse it, but you had no place to stay and you had Ladson to think about too. Overall, Ladson had not spoken much since you landed, and you quickly realized that he was going to take his charge seriously. It would be a while before you saw glimpses of his old personality again; he had been given an order, and his mission to protect you came first and foremost over whatever was left of his character.

                And so you had stayed. The house was extremely small, smaller than Kylo Ren’s dwellings, but you didn’t mind it much. The door opened into a small kitchen. There was a tiny bathroom with a shower off to one side, and then, beyond a couch, was a door to a small bedroom that contained a tiny bed that was just a little bit smaller than the one in your first apartment on the Starkiller Base. That room had become a bit of an enigma to you; while you tried not to think of it, that was also the room, the bed, in which you had come to know Kylo Ren firsthand. Even still, you had gotten used to rolling around the giant bed with Kylo, and it would take you some time to adjust to sleeping alone again. Ladson slept outside on the couch, and although you had initially protested and tried to convince him to talk to Sadie’s father about getting a bed for himself, he insisted that the couch was fine. You had no idea what his sleeping quarters had been like for him while he was being trained, and so you had no idea if the couch was actually an improvement to what he had previously. Either way, you let him be. 

                Sadie came by daily, first bringing food and other small gifts, and then later bringing only bits of news and conversation. Apparently, ever since the “murders” of B and C, the academia took a more vocal position on the conflict, at least teaching students about what was happening in the galaxy so they knew to be more aware of the dangers they faced in leaving the planet. It didn’t really make a difference to you. The planet itself still remained decidedly neutral in the end, and aside from telling students about what had happened, nothing else changed. It wouldn’t have changed things for you either, and a part of you knew that. It was one thing to hear about how two teachers were viciously murdered by the First Order, but it was another thing to have actually lived through it. Before you had begun your internship, you always knew that the world did not exist in black and white. Everything existed in shades of grey. War was not simple; there was no clear good side and no clear bad side. If they knew that B and C were secretly operatives for the Resistance, no one talked about it. Their deaths had long since been swept under the rug, and you supposed you should be thankful for that.

                Your life went on without purpose for a while. You tried to be of use to Sadie’s father, helping him in the shop, but he didn’t really need you; Sadie was more than enough help for him. She didn’t go back to classes, and although she encouraged you and Ladson to, Ladson had his assignment, and he remained adamant to follow it. He trailed you everywhere you went, and although he didn’t wear his uniform anymore, he still walked like them, his shoulders tense and his muscular frame constantly at attention. At night though, he occasionally came back to himself. He would never talk about his training, but he did talk about the Starkiller Base, a subject you could never bring up with Sadie, and you were glad that you had someone to talk to about all that you had seen and experienced there.

                Sometimes you would talk, or vent, or rant on for hours about how much you missed Kylo and he would just sit and listen to you, occasionally holding your hand, his face impassive. He listened to you ramble on about how you secretly missed being needed by him, about how much you missed your casual friendship with Captain Phasma, and about how much you missed your self-defense classes and play fighting with Kylo. It always came back to Kylo. At night, before you went to bed, you would drape his scarf over your shoulders and hope that tomorrow would be the day he returned.

                At first the days went by quickly. A day became a week and then a week became a month, and then two months had passed before you were even aware of them. You had tried to talk to your academia about setting up a self-defense class, but they deemed it unnecessary and suggested you return to your work as an interpreter. But you couldn’t do that, not anymore. You could no longer do what was required of you; you could no longer be neutral. It brought back too many painful memories that you felt it was better for you not to relive. Eventually, though, you wore them down, and they permitted you to hold one class a week, even providing you with a regular salary. It was small, but it was enough to support both you and Ladson.

                The attendance to your first few classes had been small, but after word of your reputation leaked across campus that you had been trained on the Starkiller Base, directly under the notorious Kylo Ren himself, attendance became steady. People asked you questions about him all the time, and although at first your heart burned at the mere mention of his name, you enjoyed telling them stories of Kylo Ren. You told them stories of a man with a crackling red sword made out of pure energy, stories of a man that could probe people’s minds and cut a man down with a single glance. You had them all in fear of him, and as their sense of fear grew, so did your pride. Little did they know that the man that they so feared was the man that you had shared a bed with, the man that you had loved and who loved you in return.

                You had tried to encourage Sadie to join your classes, but she had since grown to abhor violence, and spent her days rearranging fabrics and stitching together clothing. It wasn’t such a bad deal, as you received all of her failed creations which left both you and Ladson with a steady supply of new clothes. Sometimes, during the evenings, she would sit on your doorstep and sew as you and Ladson battled it out on the grass, sometimes sparring with your staff, sometimes fighting with just your hands. She would watch you both and shake her head, probably because you always won. You were sure that Ladson was letting you win; although he was much stronger than when you had first sparred like children on the Starkiller Base, he had his orders to protect you now, and he wasn’t going to risk facing Kylo Ren’s wrath if he inflicted so much as a scratch on you.

                Four months went by without any sign or word from Kylo Ren, but his name still clung to your every thought. Nights were the worst, when you lay in bed and tried to reach out to him with your mind. You had no idea if you could reach him or not, but you tried to anyway, sending positive thoughts his way, telling him that you loved him and that you missed him. Sometimes it was just that, a simple message of longing, but other times you let your mind ramble on, telling him stories about how, if he ever stepped foot on this planet, everyone would cower in fear of his power. You could imagine the glint in his eyes, the cocky, arrogant smile as he would laugh at that, and at least a part of you was glad that you could still picture his face. You couldn’t really picture B’s face, or C’s face, or Shayne’s face, or Taro’s face, at least not anymore. You remembered that Shayne had dark hair and was short and chubby and that Taro had dark green skin and large eyes that were always full and expressive, but their faces were never clear to you, not in the same way that Kylo’s was. You knew that over time, eventually, your memory of him would fade as well, but you wouldn’t let yourself dwell on it. You were afraid that your memory would eventually lose the sound of his laugh, or the sensation of his fingertips sliding over your hips as you slept, pulling you closer towards him. But you refused to give into that fear. You knew that fear would only make you angry at Kylo for leaving you alone this long, and it was only a matter of time before that anger would lead you to hate him for abandoning you. You knew it was a dangerous path to go down, and so you refused to take that first step. You refused to be afraid.

                But little did you know, you were not alone, not truly. Kylo Ren had given you a gift that neither you nor he had expected. You actually couldn’t be sure if it was a gift or not, but you knew it was the Force at work. It had to be. The last time he had moved inside of you, it had been a quick, desperate bid to feel each other one last time. It almost didn’t seem right that this act would be the one that led to conception. Then again, he had made love to you the night before that foul morning, and that, you remembered, had been an intense, passionate affair that lasted hours. But no, you knew it had happened that morning. You couldn’t be sure how you knew, maybe it was the Force, maybe it wasn’t, but somehow, you just knew.

                Which made it more than just a little strange, then, that Sadie had been the one to point it out to you. She had noticed your stomach getting bigger, and while you had insisted that you had just been eating more because you had been working yourself too hard, even Ladson had started to pick up on your weird food cravings and your wild swings of mood. As soon as Sadie had told you, you had an inkling in the back of your mind that it was true, but you continued to deny it for weeks, up until the point where it was physically obvious and you couldn’t hide it anymore. Back when you had first arrived at your academia, you had visited their medical clinic and gotten a BC regulator implant installed in your inner thigh that should have prevented you from getting pregnant, but somewhere along the line, it must have failed, because they were able to confirm that you were _definitely_ pregnant.

                You stopped teaching, and told everyone that would listen that the baby was Ladson’s. If he was uncomfortable with this, he made no sign of showing it. He knew as well as you did that no one could know that this was the child of the great Kylo Ren. The Force would be strong in this child. He or she would be powerful, perhaps even dangerous, and you honestly weren’t sure what to do. You had developed your Force powers with Kylo, but you had hardly used them here. Should you even attempt to train your child in the Force yourself? How would you even go about doing it when there was still so much you didn’t know? And would the Force present itself immediately, or would he or she seem, for all intents and purposes, like a normal child?

                You lay in bed more and more as the weeks went by. Sadie hardly left your side and Ladson never did leave your side, not at all. Every night, and even every day, every hour, it seemed like, you had your eyes shut tight, whispering to Kylo Ren, sending your thoughts into every far corner of the galaxy, even the Unknown Regions, trying to send word to him that you were carrying his child. Sometimes, you felt like he responded. Sometimes, you felt like he told you that he knew, that he told you to be strong, and that he would be on his way as soon as he could. You knew it was probably more wishful thinking than anything else, but you didn’t care. If your child was strong in the Force, then it meant that Kylo’s Force was inside you this very second as well, flowing through your veins, and sometimes you felt sure that Kylo Ren was closer to you than ever. He _knew;_ you were sure of it.

                And you were never as sure of it as the day that your child was born. Sadie thought for sure it was going to be a girl, she said she could tell by the shape of your stomach, but it was a boy. You could feel a small burst of joy inside your chest, and you knew that Kylo would be pleased. As you held your child in your arms while Sadie and Ladson looked on, you could feel the power emanating from him. He had inherited his father’s dark hair and dark eyes, but that was not all he had received. The Force was strong within him; you could sense it. You were sure Sadie and Ladson could sense it too, as they looked almost nervous as they looked over you.

                “No one can know of this,” Sadie says quietly. “No one can know that’s Kylo Ren’s child, or he’ll be in terrible danger.”

                “We should be safe on this planet,” Ladson adds. “Ren did tell us to wait here. He might come back.”

                “He’ll come back,” you tell him, looking down at the baby in your arms. “He’s strong in the Force, I can feel it. I’m sure others can probably feel it too, but he’s Kylo’s child. He probably felt the strongest pull of all. He’ll come back for us. I’m sure of it.”

                And you were sure of it. You hadn’t a doubt in your mind now that Kylo was going to return for both you and his child. He would be raised in the Force, and he was going to be powerful, just like his father. He would have the best traits of both of his parents: a strong fighting spirit, a reckless passion, and an undefeatable sense of self-reliance. None of these traits were inherently good or inherently bad, they just _were_. You didn’t know what trials and tribulations would lay in store for him in the future, but you would let him know each and every day that he was loved. He was going to be great one day, and although you had no idea what form his greatness would take, you could be sure that he would be loved, regardless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, this is it. This is officially the end of part one, A Flare in the Dark. When I first imagined this story, I thought about her escaping with Taro and letting that be it, but by that point I had become far too invested in our reader and her happy ending to do such a thing, and now you've got a trilogy coming your way! Life is funny like that. Anyway, later tonight/tomorrow morning, I will be releasing "chapter 34" as a first-look sneak peek of the sequel and the full plot synopsis, and then tomorrow I will post the first chapter of the sequel at regular time. 
> 
> Bit of raw honesty here: I hate fanfic stories that end in pregnancy and babies, that’s just me, I personally don’t want kids myself, and I don’t like how children are sort of used to cement the “happy ending” stereotype, that they’ll stay together for sure now that there’s a kid involved. But, I thought it over, and it looked like too good of an opportunity to pass up: If Kylo Ren had a kid, he would definitely be strong in the Force, and you can bet that his birth would cause ripples in the Force and everyone would feel it. Snoke, of course, would want the child for his own ends, and Leia, of course, would feel her grandchild being born and want to take him under her protection to protect him from Snoke as well…and who better to shed some light on Kylo’s past than his own mother? Would learning about his past put a damper on the reader’s feelings in any way? Will she finally have to make a choice between the First Order and the Resistance?? [I am way too excited about this, in case you couldn't tell.]
> 
> PS: To all those who were asking, back in chapter 12, when she sneaks into Sadie's room to talk with her about Kylo, she had made a joke about being thankful for being on birth control that was later omitted from the final script for various reasons, most of them being that "someone" felt it would be better to always have it in the back of the audience's mind that pregnancy was an option that could occur, combined with the fact that I don't know about you, but I don't actively make jokes about my birth control to my friends, so it seemed a little forced, like a giant fourth-wall breaking sign to the audience. It's just really funny to me that as far back as chapter 18, when I wasn't really sure about continuing with a sequel or not, I had left a message with someone talking about the baby idea and when I woke up that morning I had an anon ask on my Tumblr asking me if the reader was pregnant and I was like, "????? WHO TOLD YOU???" So that's a little bit of fun behind the scenes, I don't know, it's fiction, but I'm just glad that people IRL are aware of the consequences of having unprotected sex, that's always good to see! Good on you guys, stay responsible!! <3
> 
> Okay, and that's all for today. Check back in tonight/tomorrow to read the preview, and then we can jump right into the sequel. As always....until tomorrow, cheers!! (you fantastic people, you!)


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel Preview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was supposed to post the preview earlier, but I literally fell asleep at my keyboard writing the sequel. xD Sorry about that! The funny thing is apparently I fell asleep at exactly 99,999 words. *adds adjective to push it over 100k* Yeah!!

                “Is he hungry again?”

                You groan as the shrill sound of a baby’s cry splits the air. You hadn’t given him a name yet; it didn’t seem appropriate. You didn’t know if there was some family name that he ought to be given, some legacy to pass on. He was going to be great, one day, but right now he was just a baby. A hungry, screaming baby that seemed to have already adopted his father’s violent swings of mood.

                “How am I supposed to know?” Sadie demands, her voice shouting to be heard over his cries as she reaches down and scoops your baby into her arms.

                “I can’t feed him again,” you say, pulling your shirt tighter around yourself. “Seriously, my breasts are sore. He’s just like his father, he bites like you wouldn’t believe.” You watch as Sadie rocks him back and forth in her arms, slowly lulling him back to sleep. He may have been your kid, but she was better with him than you were, especially at getting him to sleep. Maybe it was just because she seemed to have better maternal instincts, knowing the difference between his cries as to when he wanted to eat or sleep or when he needed to have his diaper changed. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little bit jealous. It was your baby, after all.

                “Ladson will be back with more formula shortly,” she says, keeping her voice soft so as not to wake the baby.

                “He’s been gone two hours,” you huff. “Seriously, what is taking him?”                

                Suddenly there’s a knock on the door, and you stand up to get it. “No, sit, I’m already up,” Sadie says, and you sit back down on the couch as Sadie opens the door. “Took you long-” She pauses, clutching the baby in her arms as she takes a few steps backwards into the room.

                “Sadie?” you ask nervously. You lean forward and peek out the window. Outside is Ladson, with a group of about two dozen other Storm Troopers. Cautiously, your eyes dart back to the front door as a darkly clothed figure steps inside. Your eyes drift over his armor, up to that familiar mask, the one you never thought you would be so happy to see again. You stare through the slit in his helmet, letting a smile pull at the corners of your lips. For the first time, you can read his expression through the mask. You can see his soft smile and the tender expression in his eyes as he looks at you. He stayed true to his word. He came back. You smile up at him, taking him in.

                “Took you long enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FULL PLOT SYNOPSIS: As things heat up between the First Order and the Resistance, Kylo Ren orders you to stay put on your home planet in order to keep you safe. There you remain until a mysterious droid and a dashing Resistance pilot show up at your door with an invitation from none other than Kylo Ren’s mother, who you learn is not only alive but the General of the Resistance. Spawned on by curiosity as to why Kylo Ren is at odds with his own mother, will you and your friends get swept up in another whirlwind adventure of danger? What more will you come to learn about the Force? Will you finally have to choose between the Dark side and the Light? And will you try to find your way back to Kylo Ren, or seek safety for yourself and your child from within the Resistance?
> 
> Not to give too much away, but this story is definitely going to explore the complexities in their relationship. I just think it's interesting to have this character that can fall in love with him without knowing the bad things he's done, and then trying to move on from that, like, "Okay, now that I've learned what he's done and how he's hurt people, can I still love him? And what will that say about me if I do? Am I a bad person for loving someone that's a bad person?" And that's a very real struggle that some people deal with and so I hope that I can continue to explore that in a really raw, emotionally genuine way. I wrote a little bit more about this to someone earlier, but ao3 crashed and deleted the comment so, meh, but basically I'm giving a bit of time away from Kylo to figure out what she wants, and maybe she'll make a decision, maybe she won't. I've had hour long conversations with people who swing from, "He's despicable, I hate him" to "But I still want to be with him, what does that say about me?" and they just go back and forth and and our reader is definitely going to struggle with some of that as she learns about his past and the things he's done from the people he hurt firsthand. Now that she can't hide behind generalizations anymore, can she really still love him? Will she try to move on from him? And will the Force bond they share prevent her from doing so?
> 
> Well, the sequel, A Candle in the Night, will attempt to answer those questions. (Alternatively titled A Candle in the Knight for fun reasons.) xD 
> 
> Click the little >> below to jump to part 2 of the Signs and Smoke Signals trilogy, A Candle in the Night.


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